All Of Me
by Ghost of the Dawn
Summary: Story 2 of my series. Bucky struggles as his memories of his time at Hydra begin to come back to him. When the personalities of James Barnes and the Winter Soldier collide, his metal arm starts to develop a will of its own. An alternate retelling of Civil War with some Black Panther thrown in.
1. Chapter 1: Stay

Author's Notes: Welcome to the sequel! Thank you to everyone who supported the first fic in this series. I really love "Coffee Girl" and I loved visiting it again and finishing it. Finding out someone out there read and enjoyed means a lot to me. Most people who left comments received personal responses. Those who signed in as guests, your comments were read and appreciated. I wish I could have thanked you personally.

Those who have kept up with the story thus far, I'm sorry, but the very brisk update schedule of a chapter a week is now ending with this sequel's chapter one. Now they will be posted as I manage to write them. I'm really excited to get to this story and I hope you will all come on this journey with me. Thank you for reading!

 _So put your hand in mine  
We'll be fine, I know  
I know that  
If you stay tonight  
I promise I will show you_

 _I will fight_

 _'Cause I will fight and I will beg  
I just want to hear you say_

 _That tonight will be alright_

 _If you will stay._

 _-Lee Dewyze, "Fight"_

 **All Of Me**

 **By: Ty-Chou aka Ghost of the Dawn**

 **Chapter One: Stay**

Ultron was dead. The word 'deactivated' didn't seem quite right to define what happened. Yes, he was a machine and he hadn't even been a machine for all that long. But there was something _alive_ about him, if misguided. And that, whatever it was, was gone. In his wake he left incalculable devastation and only things that were alive could cause such destruction.

No one considered this a win with the countless lives lost at the complete annihilation of Sokovia. Most citizens trapped on the chunk of the city that was raised into the sky were rescued. Most left on the ground lost their lives when the pieces fell to Earth. The only thing the Avengers prevented was world-wide extinction and little else. It was a hard truth to take and the heroes aboard the SHIELD rescue vessel were all silent as they processed what happened.

It would be a while until they found a safe, flat place to touch down and let out all the surviving Sokovians. Steve wandered off to the depths of the ship to find some privacy. He was heartsick and still shaking from it all. It hurt. It hurt bad in a place he didn't know how to heal. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number, hoping that he would catch her at a time when she could answer.

After only one ring, a female voice was instantly on the line. "Steve! Are you okay? We've been watching it on the news! Oh my god, I thought... I didn't know what I would do if..." Her voice trailed off, choking with emotion.

Steve decided he would not tell her that he narrowly managed to jump to safety just as the city fell. "Hey Marcy, I'm okay." At least physically that was true.

"What about everyone else? Clint? Nat?"

"Everyone on our team made it out."

"But a lot of people didn't," she said with understanding. "I know that's painful and it's going to be painful for a long time. Sometimes, even when you do your best, it's not enough. But I know you did your absolute best and you saved everyone that you possibly could. Let yourself mourn, but don't beat yourself up over things you could not change, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too." Steve choked a bit himself as he rubbed his face in exhaustion. "It's so good to hear your voice. Please talk to me a little while longer."

"As long as you need. Whatever you want to hear."

"Say you'll see me again soon."

"I _will_ see you again soon. And again and again. I will always see you again. You're never going to stop seeing me. Not ever."

Steve smiled despite himself as he leaned tiredly against the wall. With all the good-byes he had said to women over a radio, he never wanted to stop hearing those words now. Her voice always soothed his nerves. She always knew exactly what he needed her to say.

* * *

.

"But if you put the hammer in an elevator..."

"It would still go up!"

"Elevator's not worthy."

Thor put a heavy, but friendly hand on Tony Stark's shoulder. "I'm going to miss these little talks of ours, huh?"

"Not if you don't leave," Tony shot back.

"Steve!"

The captain's face brightened as he saw who was walking up the hall of their pristine new Avengers base. Marcy, still in her own SHIELD uniform and fresh from the field herself, picked up the pace of her stride toward him. Bucky, also dressed in his usual black kevlar strolled behind her at a more languid pace.

Steve remained where he stood next to Tony and Thor, watching with a smile as Marcy was trying to keep herself from running to him. When she came close, he held out his arms to her with a "Jump!" She leaped into his arms and he caught her easily around the waist, hugging her tight.

Marcy hugged him around the neck and then kissed the side of his face before he let her down. She then appraised what he was wearing. "Is this your new suit? You went back to the red, white, and blue?"

"Yeah, it's got some better features. Better protection but more mobility. It holds my shield better, too." He paused when he noticed Marcy's eyes were still roaming his form. "You like it?"

"Oh, yeah," she said in a low voice, nearly biting her lip. Several males in her vicinity were smirking at her before she shook herself and addressed the other two with a smile. "Hi, it's good to see you both. I'm glad all of you are safe."

Tony smirked at her. "Well, if it isn't the B Team."

Marcy laughed and jerked her head in Bucky's direction. "Clint calls him D-List."

"That's true, he does call me that," Bucky confirmed neutrally.

"We could have used your help on this one, Agent Gray. Where were you through all of this?"

"I had already been in the field for two weeks. We stopped a flesh-eating virus from entering Chicago's water supply. You're welcome."

Bucky tossed the canteen he was holding to Tony, who caught it with horror. "Is this...?"

"It's water," Marcy laughed. She then turned to Thor who also pulled her into a big hug. "It's good to see you. How are you?"

"Better for seeing your face," he murmured back, still holding her.

Standing next to Steve, Bucky glared at the two. "What's this guy's deal?" he whispered to his friend. "I already don't like him."

Steve laughed a little and clapped him on his metal shoulder. "It's fine, Buck. Don't worry about it."

Marcy pulled back from the embrace. "So are you on your way out or are you staying for a while?"

"I was about to leave, but I can tarry a little longer for you."

"Great! I want to hear about what you've been up to. Did you find any of those... infinity rock... thingies you talked about?"

Thor's eyes widened in realization. "You don't know yet about the..." He motioned to a point on his forehead as he looked at Steve. Steve shook his head in answer. He had not informed Marcy about all that happened during the Ultron incident, or that they now had two new members of the Avengers, one a very mysterious and unconventional being.

"Oh, so now we've got to get the B Team up to speed, huh?" Tony said.

The three Avengers took turns explaining all that had happened within the mere past few days. Tony told them about Ultron, the self-loathing clear in his voice. Steve told them about Wanda and Vision, who were now going to be residents at the newly finished Avengers base where they were. Thor explained about the Infinity Stones, even sharing more information than what Steve and Tony had known.

The Infinity Stones weren't always literally just stones. They were entities of power that often changed forms at their leisure for whomever wielded them. Such as the Reality Stone, which had existed as a red mist known as the Aether for centuries before it fell back into a solid stone-like state. And for the Mind Stone, which formed itself from the power core of Loki's previous scepter to a yellow jewel which now embedded itself in Vision's forehead, giving him life. He confirmed that the Tesseract was also one such of these stones as well.

Bucky took in all the information with a fairly emotionless face while Marcy's expressions skipped around so much that it was almost comical. Bucky was used to being told things without any backtalk, but Marcy still had so many questions as she tried to process all this.

"This... this is crazy. This Vision guy, the stone just gave him life like that? Out of nothing?"

"Well, out of J.A.R.V.I.S. to be precise," Tony corrected.

"And he's not only alive, but he can phase through things and... and fly?" When Thor first told her of the stones, she believed they existed, but she never thought they would get anywhere near her own world. It was like a fantasy story suddenly come to life. "Has Bruce looked at this stone? What does he think?"

Tony looked away while Steve stepped closer with a regretful look. "We lost Bruce in the battle."

"Lost him? Like... he's dead? He died?"

"No, he took a jet and left during the fight. We don't know why. We don't know when or if he's coming back."

Marcy suddenly looked so lost. "Why would he want to do that? He was doing so well at SHIELD and being with all of us."

Tony sighed. He already missed his friend and it still hurt that Bruce took off without an explanation to even him. "Sometimes people gotta fight their demons alone. He'll come back when he's ready."

Marcy smiled at him when she realized that Tony was saying that more for himself than anyone else. "Yes. I know he will."

* * *

.

"This place is nice," Marcy told Steve as she looked around his personal living quarters. It was fully furnished with a large kitchen space and even larger living area. To the side, one part of the wall was floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the new outdoor training area within the compound's parameter. "You're really going to live here now? On this base?"

Steve looked around the generous space with its high ceiling and new furnishings. He was still impressed with it himself. "Before this, I had given up my apartment to live at HQ with Bucky, so this is a step up."

"No kidding." She motioned to all the high tech gadgetry and the sharp decorating of the place. "This isn't an apartment, this is a penthouse suite."

"And I don't have to share a room here," Steve added. "Bucky's graduated to having his own, which is nice if I have company." He raised his brows comically at her.

She grinned back. "Good. I'm glad he's doing better. Though..." Her smile faded. "When we were on that mission together, he still didn't sleep all that much. But you don't sleep much either, do you Steve?"

He just shook his head and then patted the spot next to him on the sofa. She sat beside him and leaned in as he put his arm around her.

"He seemed to get more sleep when I was around. I just started booking hotel rooms with two beds to make sure he got more than four hours."

Steve sighed. "I know there are things he's struggling with that I can't fix for him. He's in a safe place here, he's with people who care about him. Eventually, he's going to get used to it. I had similar problems at first. I slept seventy years. I didn't want to sleep anymore for a while. I would fight it until I was exhausted. Eventually, I fell into a normal habit. It takes time and it's something he has to do on his own."

"I know. But sometimes he just suddenly has such a lost look on his face. I wish I could do more for him."

They were quiet for a while, Marcy's cheek on his chest while he ran his fingers up and down her arm.

"So what about you?" Steve then asked. "Would you like to move up here?"

She sat back to look at him. "Move into this posh military base in disguise? No thank you. I like my house and my yard. I am very happy with it. But I'm not opposed to visiting," she added.

"What about staying the night?" he suddenly asked.

Marcy watched him, trying to read his face. There had been a very finite amount of instances where she and Steve Rogers had shared a night in the same living quarters. Only twice in the same bed. She was trying to figure out exactly what he was asking when he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, sweet and unhurried. With this kiss he tasted her, his hands coming up to cup her jaw. He breathed in and the kiss went deeper. There was a growing hunger in it now. Marcy let out a small whimper quite by accident and a fire ignited in his blood.

He moved forward, pressing his weight against her, his body pushing her back against the armrest of the couch. He kissed her needfully, breathlessly, and they both enjoyed a heavy make out session, hands going everywhere as they tried to find that physical intimacy they both craved.

After a few minutes, Steve pulled away, both of them panting. His body was still on hers, running hot and ready. Marcy rubbed her nose against his as she regained her breath.

"Stay," he whispered. "Whatever happens tonight, I just want you here with me."

She looked him in the face for several moments. Her fingers ran through his hair, then traced along his brow, his check bones. Her thumb traced over his lips before she tenderly kissed him on those same places. Steve's heart ached at the affection. That sudden fear of losing her to Hydra, that same fear of himself nearly dying in Sokovia overcame him.

He buried his face in her neck, taking in her scent. He shivered once and her arms instantly went around him.

"Stay," he asked again. "Stay with me."

* * *

.

Bucky, as usual, did not sleep; couldn't sleep. It was too silent in this state-of-the-art Avengers base; the bed too soft, the walls too new. Was he meant to live here now? Her preferred SHIELD Central better, sharing a large suite with Steve. Even better, he loved those days when he and Steve just lived at Marcy's house for a while. He didn't even mind sleeping on the pull-out couch.

He did not like the silence, the emptiness of living in this place. The silence reminded him of secret underground places were bodies slept, cold and still. It kept him awake. Plus, there were always other things; things that waited for him to sleep before they came to haunt and torment him. He was not in the mood to meet them that night.

Unable to sleep and unwilling to stay in his quiet, empty room, Bucky left his quarters and stalked the pristine, new halls of the Avengers base. Most denizens of the new facility were asleep or at least retired to their rooms. Bucky avoided the spare staff on night's watch as he nosed around the different levels and even wandered outside for a bit. He learned the base both outside and in before ending up on the roof, stalking up and down the length of it, watching the darkness below and the wooded area beyond the twenty-foot-tall fence.

Suddenly, Bucky had the feeling he was not alone on the roof. He turned and there was a being swallowed in red light in front of him. He immediately pulled out his gun, eyes wide and wild.

"No! Don't shoot! Please," the unidentified person begged, hands up. A second more and he realized it was a woman a bit younger than him. "Please," she repeated again. When he didn't comply, she made a jerking motion and the gun was suddenly out of his hand, floating a few feet above him in that same red light.

"I don't want to hurt you," the woman said in a thickly accented voice. "I just don't want you to shoot me."

Bucky took a breath, willing his instincts of kill or be killed to settle down. He was in a safe place. There was no danger here. "I'm guessing you're Wanda."

She floated down so her feet touched the roof. "No one told me who you were."

"Sargent Barnes." He paused and then added. "I'm Steve's friend."

She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze settling on his metal arm glinting in the various lights around the parameter of the base. "Is that why you're here, because you are Steve Roger's friend? Or is it because you are dangerous and SHIELD wants to keep tabs on you?"

"Both, probably."

Wanda returned his gun anyway. "I am here because the Avengers wanted to help me. And also because I too am dangerous."

"I'm sure you are."

She tipped her head as she looked at him. "You are not afraid of me."

"I guess not."

She squinted at him. "You are very hard to read, even though you are the reason I can't sleep. You have painted all the walls and corridors with your restlessness."

Bucky was suddenly unnerved by that statement and Wanda could tell.

"Are you reading my thoughts?"

Wanda did not answer the question. Instead, she said, "I asked for this power because I wanted to help my country. I regret it. It has never brought me anything good."

"I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Wanda. I just met you."

She smiled a little, reminding him that she was younger than him, and so much less experienced in his world. "Because you are like me: altered by people who lied to you, who wanted to change you. Kept prisoner and used as a weapon." Her smile turned bittersweet. "There is half of you missing, as my other half was taken from me in Sokovia. But mostly I came out here because your energy was making it difficult to sleep."

"I'm sorry. I... don't sleep much. It's not something I'm good at."

"I can help you sleep, if you like."

Bucky laughed a bit at that, not at all convinced. "I doubt there is anything you could do that-"

He didn't remember anything else that may have happened that night.

* * *

.

Always an early riser, Steve padded to the communal living area in sweats and bare feet, flipping on the large, overhanging flatscreen as he searched for the news and then possibly something to eat as he hadn't had a chance yet to stock the refrigerator in his own quarters. There wasn't much there either, the facility still being so new. He entertained the idea of going out to the nearest supermarket to pick up some food before the rest of the inhabitants on his floor began to stir.

Before he could go back to his room for shoes and keys, footage from the Sokovia incident flashed on the screen. He leaned his back against the counter as he watched, arms folded over his chest. The story began by neutrally covering the bare bones of the Sokovia incident. Then, Steve noticed the topic turned to the Avengers themselves and what they could do, how they were so different, so much more advanced than normal people. There was fear in the news story and a tone that made him on edge. He didn't quite like where this story was going.

Suddenly, he was distracted as a box of condoms nearly the size of a cereal box was slapped on the counter next to him.

"What's this?" he demanded.

Tony leaned against the counter casually, propped on one elbow. "A present. I thought you two kids would need some protection."

Steve stared at it for a moment, taking in the box art. "How..."

"How did I know? Well, for one, my security system told me you showed Agent Gray your room _all night long_. And two, you're sporting a nice post-coital glow there." He paused and then added. "Was this your first time _ever_ , Captain?"

Steve's face flushed a little, but he refused to answer. Marcy walked in right then. "Hey guys. Woah, that's a giant box of condoms there. Yours, Tony?"

"Bought by me for you. So there's no little accidents. I understand the 40's hadn't really mastered the art of birth control."

Marcy didn't skip a beat as she threaded her fingers through Steve's and gave him an affectionate look. "Then I guess we better get busy. We still have to go through that _other_ giant box of condoms we already have."

Tony laughed. "Keep her, Rogers. She's far better at comebacks than you." He looked up when he noticed another person was standing in the doorway. "Wanda. Would you like to come in and join us?"

The young Sokovian woman had wandered in since the news was playing on the TV. She wasn't expecting to so suddenly be in the midst of such a topic. "No thanks, I don't know any of you well enough to be a part of this conversation." She turned to leave and nearly ran into Bucky's chest. "Oh, Sargent Barnes. Did you sleep well?"

He looked at her stone-faced. "Like the dead, _Wanda_ ," he said with accusation in his voice. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten back to bed. His sleep had been heavy and dreamless, and Bucky was still trying to decide how irritated he was about it.

"You two have already met?" Steve asked them.

"Briefly," Bucky said as he walked further into the communal kitchen area. As he approached, everyone noticed he carried a very full duffel bag with him.

"What's with the bag, Buck?" Steve asked.

"I'm not staying here. I'm going back to Central HQ."

"Sorry Buck, we live here now."

He made an annoyed sound. "You didn't even ask me, Steve! I've been gone for two weeks and now I just live here?"

"I didn't think you would mind. I'm staying here now. I figured that's where you would want to be, too."

Bucky clenched his jaw. He did want to be wherever Steve was, but this place... he didn't like it. It would drive him crazy to live here. Just the thought of spending one more night here frayed him at the edges. "I don't mind going where ever you go Steve, but I can't stay here. I'm going back to HQ."

"You can't, Buck. They want you at this facility."

That irritated him even more. He worked for SHIELD, but that didn't mean they had jurisdiction over where he slept at night. "Fine. Then can I stay with you, Marcy?"

"Of course you can," she replied instantly. "You can stay as long as you like."

"No, you are not staying there," Steve insisted, his own irritation showing. "This is where we live now. Why are you fighting me on this?"

"And why are you getting angry, Steve?" Marcy asked with amusement. "He's not going anywhere you can't follow. You both have keys to the house, come over whenever you like. In fact, you can come over right now."

Steve gave her a befuddled look, opening his mouth to speak, but not knowing what to say.

"Because I'm going home right now," Marcy added.

"You're going home? Now?" Steve then said, sounding abandoned.

"Yes. I haven't been in my house for two weeks. I need to go home. I'll take James with me. You can come with me too, or you can drop by later. You're welcome to do whatever you want." When he continued to look both confused and irritated, she fixed his collar with amusement. "Steve, it's going to be fine. Neither one of us are going to disappear on you, but I really do need to go home. I was supposed to be back yesterday."

Steve breathed out loudly and muttered some sort of agreement as she ran her fingers through the hair at his nape and then stood on her toes to kiss his jaw.

"You know where to find us when you want to see us. Ready to go, James?"

Bucky just smiled, holding up his bag.

Marcy waved to everyone in the kitchen as they walked off. As the two were nearly out, Vision suddenly appeared through the wall next to them. Marcy let out a startled cry while Bucky swore at him, then both fled out the door.

Tony watched them go with amusement. "Well, Cap, it just keeps getting weirder and weirder, doesn't it?"

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess it does."

* * *

.

A fifteen-year-old girl with dirty blonde hair and purple-rimmed glasses walked out on the porch when they drove up to Marcy's house.

"Hey, Katie," she greeted as she got out. "Thanks for taking that extra night. Sorry I wasn't able to make it back yesterday. How was everything?"

"Good." Most of the girl's attention was on the other man getting out of her car. Marcy called it back toward her.

"I saw that you had friends over while I was gone. You know I can see what you're doing on my security cameras."

Katie's eyes snapped forward, looking a little scared. "I'm sorry. It was just a couple of people who came over for pizza and movies. We didn't do anything crazy and we cleaned up."

"I know. You're very responsible." She handed the girl a good collection of cash. "There's a bonus in there for you. Thanks for doing such a good job. If you want, I'll call you again to house sit next time I'm out of town."

"Okay!" She grinned and then her attention was right back on Bucky as he walked past them without a word and into the house.

"Where's Stev—Um, Captain Rogers?" Katie asked with a bit of a flush in her cheeks.

"He's at work. He's got a new compound that I guess he's running."

"So, what's that guy doing here then?"

Marcy almost laughed. Bucky had been around just as much as Steve lately, but he always lurked in the house and Katie, who lived a few houses down, never bothered to learn his name. Not when the famous and very charming Captain America was over and was far more sociable.

"He's... going to rent the guest bedroom for a while, I think. Until he finds a place of his own. Don't worry about it. Thanks again, Katie. Tell your mom I said you did a great job."

She waved off the young teen before stepping inside. Bucky was nowhere in the front of the house. She found him in the guest room, flopped face down on the bed and not moving. Dippy had already discovered him and was standing on the soldier's back, butting his head against the back of Bucky's skull, purring. During the handful of days the two soldiers had stayed at Marcy's house, Bucky quickly became one of the cat's most favorite people.

"You okay?" Marcy asked.

Bucky mumbled something into the comforter and then turned his head so he was audible. "What's wrong with me that I can't handle moving into a new building when I was just fine staying in old, nasty hotels with you for two weeks?"

"You're fine, James. I prefer this house to a compound any day."

"I'll see if maybe I can find my own place or something. I'll try not to be in your hair for too long. You're probably getting tired of seeing my face by now."

Marcy's cell buzzed in her pocket. "Don't worry about it," she said as she checked the ID and then answered. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey," Natasha's voice greeted her on the other end. "You left too fast. I didn't even get to see you."

Marcy walked out the backdoor so she could have the conversation more privately outside. "Well maybe you would see me more often if you didn't bail on me so fast. I thought we were partners."

"We still are. Hunting for Loki's scepter was unfinished business. I like to finish what I start. It's a one-time thing. Next time we're called out, it's you and me again."

"Okay, I'll hold you to it."

After a pause, Natasha asked, "So, how was it, a full two weeks with... Sargent Barnes?"

Marcy made an amused sound. "He still scares you a little, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't _scare_ me. I just wouldn't turn my back on him. You haven't seen this guy in action, Marce. What Hydra did to his head, it was like his humanity was gone. It was like fighting a heartless killing machine. Sorry if it makes me a little wary. Are you really just putting him up in your house? You two alone? It worries me."

"It will be fine. I don't think it's a long term thing. He might decide to go back to the compound with Steve, you never know. I think going this two weeks without Steve made him realize he needs to figure things out for himself. They've been joined at the hip for nearly a year and now he's trying, I think, to do things on his own.

"You keep seeing him as this deadly hitman, Nat, but all I see is this... confused, aimless person. In fact, the more time I spend with him, the more I realize he doesn't always mean it when he smiles. Most of the time he's very lost and... deeply sad. And I can't do anything for him but give him a safe place to sleep. I wish I could do more. I worry about him all the time."

"Well, I worry about _you_ , Marce. Don't ever forget that the things he did was because someone easily pulled his strings. We still don't fully understand how that works or how easily it could happen again. I knew you'd be safe as long as Steve was there. But with that mission and now this... you being alone with him—just promise me if he starts changing his behavior that you'll say something to somebody. Don't try to fix it yourself, okay?"

"Don't worry, Nat. It's going to be fine. And I'm hopeful this will be a temporary arrangement. Maybe he will go back to the compound after he's warmed up to the idea. We've been gone for two weeks and we were looking forward to being home and then he was told he couldn't go back to his familiar place. That's gotta suck. I don't blame him for feeling a little displaced. I'm just going to give him some time to figure it out.

"But since you called, I wanted to ask, do you know what happened with Dr. Banner? Why he just left like that?"

Natasha's sigh was heavy on the other end. "I really don't know what happened. He jumped on a jet to fight one of the robots and then just... kept going. I got on the radio and tried to get him to turn around but... it wasn't Bruce who was on that plane. It was the other guy. When he's in control, I honestly don't know if there's any of Bruce to try to talk to."

Marcy didn't know either. "Wherever he's going, I hope he's okay."

"Me, too. Well, he knows how to call us if he wakes up in some random location and needs a pickup." Natasha paused and then attempted to lighten the conversation. "So, Steve is already moping around the place without you."

"Already? I saw him barely more than two hours ago!"

Natasha chuckled on the other end. "I think he's disappointed both of you left him and didn't even stay for breakfast."

"I told him he could come. It's his own fault he's over there and we're over here."

"I think he likes it here, though. He seems excited about the new base. He told me he has _plans_ for it."

"He sounded excited to me, too. I'm really glad he's found something that makes him feel like he has a purpose. Now we just have to help this other one with his purpose." Marcy glanced back at the house.

A male voice sounded in the background on Natasha's side of the call and then Clint's voice saying "Hey, is that Marcy?" There was a pause and then Clint's voice was far closer and clearer on the phone. "So I saw the box of condoms. Yeaaah! Get sooooome!"

"Oh my god," Marcy muttered as she promptly hung up the phone on him.

She looked up as she heard the back door slide open and Bucky stepped out into the sun, casually eating an apple. His thick, unruly hair was allowed to blow free and wild as usual. Bucky kept his hair clean, but hadn't gotten in the habit of taking care of it more than that. It was now past his shoulders and practically swallowing his face. It drove Marcy crazy the entire two weeks she had been in close quarters with him.

"What do you think about going to get your hair cut?"

Still chewing, he raised a brow at her.

* * *

.

"I want to keep it long. I like it that way," Bucky insisted to the young man at the salon who was half inspecting his hair and the other half checking out the tall drink of water that was James Barnes.

Marcy reached up to finger the tips of his unruly hair. "Cut off a few inches and then taper it so it's not so thick at the bottom like this."

The hairdresser, who introduced himself as "Kevyn with a Y", looked to Bucky for confirmation as to what he wanted. The brunette soldier just stood there with a closed-mouth smile, not adding anything to the statement.

"Alright," Kevyn said, eager to get his hands on that gorgeous man's thick head of hair. "Step right up."

He motioned to his chair: stainless steel and black leather. Bucky's smile instantly dropped at the sight of it and his heart picked up. His brain instantly went back to that deep, underground place of wall-to-wall concrete where they kept him frozen time and again. When they needed him, when they pulled his body from the ice, the place where the metal of the arm touched his skin always burned for hours after. And they would put him in The Chair.

It wasn't exactly like the barber chair offered to him now, but it was close enough to trigger the memory. They would strap him down, program him, torture him, and then send him off to do unspeakable deeds.

"Sir?" Kevyn asked.

"James, you can go sit," Marcy said, her hand touching his back.

He shook himself and sat in the chair, repeating to himself over and over that he was not in that place. There was no reason he should feel threatened here. He could do this. He could just sit in this chair and let this man cut his hair and it would be over.

Bucky breathed in and out much longer and harder than a normal breath would sound as Kevyn ran his fingers through his hair, checking the volume and the length before he began his task. From behind Kevyn leaned over him, showing Bucky in the mirror the length of his hair at the front.

"How about we cut it about here? I think that is a perfect length for this gorgeous bone structure of yours."

Bucky gripped the arms of the chair tight without realizing it. He was staring at the mirror, but he wasn't really looking. His mind was stuck years in the past. "Yeah," he managed to rasp out.

The chair was spun around and his whole body stiffened, his heart picking up anew. This time, Kevyn was in front of him, entering his personal space as he tipped the chair back toward the sink to wash the hair. Bucky felt all the personal space around him be swallowed by the other man's body. He could _feel_ the straps on his wrists from that terrible chair, the pain of being pulled from the deep freeze still biting at his raw nerve endings. And then, the real pain would begin as they attempted to fry James Barnes out of the Winter Soldier's head.

He was pushed back, the hiss of running water in his ears. His hair was wet now, as it always was when pulled from ice. Kevyn reached down to cup his skull and to begin washing. Bucky couldn't take any more. In a panic, he shoved the young man back and scrambled out of the chair. Kevyn let out a startled cry as he almost fell.

"Hey man, what the hell?"

Bucky, wild-eyed and out of it, grabbed the lip of the sink and Kevyn saw the _metal_ hand crack it.

"What—what are you?"

Bucky looked near to attacking the young man until Marcy stepped in.

"James." The voice was stern, but soft. And it broke him out of his nightmare. Her gentle touch on his metal arm instantly loosened his grip and he let go. Bucky was still breathing hard with distress when she put an arm around the small of his back and spoke softly. "Let's go home, okay?"

He let out a long, shaky breath and allowed her to lead him away. Marcy promptly returned to Kevyn once she had walked him out and offered the young man a good amount of money and several apologies before leaving.

On the drive home, both were silent in the car. Bucky's hair dripped heavily with water in the back and was still dry in the front.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after all while. "I didn't know that I would... do that."

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

"Can we... not tell Steve what happened? Please?"

Marcy reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a quick smile. "It will be okay," was all she said.

* * *

.

Once home, Bucky went to the guest bedroom to sulk and replay the scene in the salon over and over on his head. What was that? Why had he reacted so extreme when he wasn't in danger? Why did it feel like he had been slowly unraveling, not just within the last few weeks, but the last few months? He couldn't put a name to the problem, but there was one and he had no idea how it worked against him or how to fix it.

He looked up when Marcy knocked on the open door frame.

"Hey, come with me for a moment," she invited and walked up the hall.

Bucky followed into the dining area where a kitchen chair was pulled out for him.

"Sit," Marcy said.

Bucky looked at the kitchen chair. An armless chair with a material back that he had sat in many times for both dinner and just social times around the table. He sat curiously and then Marcy draped a towel over his shoulders.

"How's that? Okay?" she asked.

Bucky nodded, not sure what was going on; until she produced a pair of scissors.

"I just watched a few videos on The Youtube, so I can't promise a professional job. But I'll do my best."

The side of his mouth ticked up a little. "Do as you like. I don't mind."

He felt a comb slowly slide through his hair, pulling out the tangles gathered from the earlier incident. It felt nice and he happily sat there in silence. It was one of his favorite things about spending time with Marcy. They didn't always have to talk when they were together. Sitting silently in the same room was just as comfortable. He had originally thought she called him to the kitchen to talk about what happened. Women always wanted to talk, he vaguely recalled when he was a younger man, always chasing skirts. Always demanding to know what he was thinking at that moment. Marcy felt no need to converse with him as she took her time, trying to figure out how she was going to attack this new task she had given herself.

It took her a while to decide on a first cut. She would poise the scissors, change her mind, comb through his hair again and choose a different plan of attack. Bucky had infinite patience for it. He could sit there all day with her touching his hair. It was calming. It soothed all the raw nerves that had been exposed from the earlier incident.

Eventually, Marcy took the plunge of that first bold cut and a clump of dark brown hair fell to the floor. A few others began to fall with it. Then she paused and made a worried noise. Bucky didn't care. Hair was such a trivial thing to him. There was nothing that could be done to his hair that he couldn't grow back. After a few more hesitant moments of fiddling with his hair and looking at him from various angles, Marcy found new resolution and began cutting again.

This is time, she eventually found her rhythm. A few snips, then she would comb through his hair, take a few glances at it, and then cut again. Bucky let his thoughts wander off, not ruminating on anything in particular. He was good at letting time slip by. He could wait for hours, unmoving, forever patient. That's what made him so adept at his job as an assassin.

It was probably a good forty-five minutes before his attention was brought back to the here and now. Marcy crouched in front of him and pulled on the ends of his hair to check that they were the same length on each side. Though her face was right in front of his, her focus was only on the hair. Bucky's gaze wandered her, taking in the shape of her face and the color of her eyes up close. His inspection remained unnoticed, even when she took him by the chin to change the position of his head. That adjustment made his eyes fall to her lips as she pressed them together.

"That might be as good as it's going to get from me," Marcy announced as she stood. She ran her fingers through his hair and watched how it fell. "It's a little shorter than I meant it to be, but that just means it will be longer before you need to cut it again."

Bucky finally broke his gaze from her and ran his fingers through the unfamiliar length of his hair.

Marcy walked around him and removed the towel from his shoulders. "Go check it out in the mirror. And if you hate it, I'm sorry."

He chuffed at that. "I'm sure it's fine." He walked down the hall to the bathroom while Marcy fetched a broom. Before the mirror, Bucky inspected his new look and stared at his reflection. He looked... like a normal person. Casual, modern. Not like some drifter who lurked and hid in the shadows. James Barnes stared back at him, looking human and whole. But Bucky knew better as he stared at his own blue eyes in the mirror. The Winter Soldier was still in there, unwilling to vanish from his soul, no matter how much he tried to imagine he wasn't. Today was proof of that.

"What do you think?" Marcy asked from the doorway.

He turned toward her, smiling. "I like it. Thank you. For everything."

She patted the side of his face before walking off. "Anytime."

* * *

.

The sun had set a while ago, but Bucky continued to jog through the night. He preferred it that way. He liked the dark; the way it hid all things that lurked and sniffed around after sundown. As he ran up and down the unassuming suburban streets, no one cared that he was out in their neighborhood. No car slowed with concern when they passed by. Everything here was safe and normal. They didn't know they had a killer roaming their streets.

And he was a killer. As much as he didn't want to think about it, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn't the truth, as much as he tried to run away from it up and down these peaceful streets, he could not ever escape what he was and what he had done. The longer he was here, attempting to be a normal person, the more it became obvious that he was not.

He ran and ran until his lungs burned and he was soaked in sweat. Then he finally returned to the small house he knew and stomped up the front porch, metal arm feeling heavy. The house was silent inside. Marcy was asleep on the couch, a book pressed against her chest and a nearly empty glass of wine on the coffee table next to her. Had she tried to wait up for him? She should have set the alarm and locked the door instead of falling asleep like that.

With a sigh, he bent over and slid his arms under her back and knees. Lifting her up, he carried to her to her room. She only stirred slightly when he placed her in bed. As he covered her with the blanket, she was already sound asleep again.

Once that was finished, Bucky set about locking up the house properly and setting the alarm. The last order of business was to turn off all the lights for the night. He flicked off the last one in the dining room, plunging the house into complete darkness. There he stood, listening to the silence and the crickets chirping outside. It was late. He should be going to bed himself. But Bucky never liked bed, never looked forward to the time when he had to sleep.

Still surrounded by the night, he walked down the hall and paused at the doorway to the guestroom. His gaze remained further down toward the bedroom at the end of the hall. No sound came from Marcy's room. Even when he approached the semi-open doorway, Bucky couldn't hear a thing, not even her breathing.

One thing he learned about Marcy while on that two-week mission with her was that she was the most silent sleeper he had ever seen. Steve rolled a lot, heaving big sighs or muttering in his sleep. He was a noisy sleeper even as a kid. Bucky was sure he himself tossed and turned during the few hours he slumbered as well. But Marcy usually didn't move or make a sound. The first night they booked a hotel room together on their mission, Bucky had gotten out of his bed to check to see if she was still breathing because she was so quiet.

Now he suddenly found himself at her doorway, listening. If he held his breath, he could catch her breathing every now and then. He asked himself why the silence of this house was different than the silence of the new Avengers compound. Why did that place scrape at his nerves while here he found comfort? Why did he have to have such weird hangups about normal things? Why was he so broken?

Bucky sat himself on the floor outside Marcy's room and ran his hands through his hair, his face nearly pressed to his knees. He still remembered life before all this when he was the real James Barnes. Back then, when he was young and carefree, he never imagined one could struggle like this just to sleep. He always slept well as a young man, deep and heavy, through any kind of noise. Now, his recollection of that and being unable to go back to that state again made him so frustrated he wanted to cry.

The only time he could recall sleeping so good was that one late morning at HQ. It had been a restless, sleepless night with Marcy constantly flopping around between himself and Steve, trying to fight off a terrible fever. But that morning he had woken up in Marcy's arms, her warm body pressed against him. That human contact hushed his demons and made him feel normal for that brief moment. He had craved it ever since.

On their missions, when they shared a hotel room, their separate beds next to each other, Bucky would stay awake, staring at the ceiling. Every part of him was aware she was so close. His body remembered hers and longed for simple human contact. If she were single, maybe he would have said something about it by now. But this was not the kind of thing you brought up to your best friend's girl.

When he shared living quarters with Steve, he would just sleep on Steve's floor on nights like this and it was good enough to get him through it. Even that didn't seem appropriate here. He wished Steve wasn't staying at that stupid compound. He should have just come home with the two of them. Even when he was far away on the pull-out couch, Bucky could always sleep with both of them here in the house.

Bucky let out a deep breath and forced his thoughts out of the deep self-pity hole he had wallowed in. He was in Marcy's house. This place never scraped at his nerves. He felt calm and safe here, even if he couldn't sleep tonight. He slept too well last night, thanks to that strange witch in scarlet. So he would merely content himself with listening to the crickets outside and he would wait for dawn.


	2. Chapter 2: Unsteady

.

 _Hold, hold on, hold onto me_

 _'Cause I'm a little unsteady,_

 _A little unsteady_

 _But if you love me, don't let go._

-X Ambassadors, "Unsteady"

 **All of Me  
Chapter Two: Unsteady**

 _The soldier walked down the long hallway of the massive house. A radio played in some distant bedroom, but other than that, all was silent. There were bodies in the house; many bodies. All were motionless on the floor. All were dead. He stalked through the house to make sure that was true. There could be no witnesses. With each step of his heavy boots he paused and listened for any sound of motion, of life. He knew the punishment would be severe if he was not thorough._

 _He was up on the second floor, going through the bedrooms. In one room, posters of aliens and starships plastered the wall. The soldier paused to look at them, his rigidly programmed brain tried to take it in. It was so foreign from what he knew; from what he was even allowed to think about._

 _Then, he jerked in surprise when a small hand, a child's hand, touched his arm._

* * *

 _._

"Buck."

Bucky jolted awake with a quick inhale as someone's shoe kicked his own. He had fallen asleep in the hall near Marcy's bedroom door, his knees drawn up, arms and head resting on top. His back immediately protested his sleeping posture as he moved.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, looking down at his friend.

For a split second, Bucky felt a snap of fear at being caught this way. If he had been any other man lurking outside Marcy's door like this, Steve would have tossed his butt out by now. The fact that he didn't showed exactly how much he trusted his oldest friend.

"Is everything okay?" Steve continued. He glanced to the bedroom where there was no sound and then back down at Bucky. "Did something happen last night to make you think you weren't... safe?"

Of course that would be his first thought. Bucky had to be lurking outside Marcy's bedroom to be her guardian. There could be no other explanation in Steve's mind.

"No, everything's fine," Bucky said in a low voice. Steve offered a hand to pull him to his feet and Bucky groaned as he straightened his back. "I think I'm still in mission mode. I just feel like... someone has to keep watch."

That statement wasn't actually far from the truth. When they had first been assigned to the mission, Bucky thought it might be fun to go on SHIELD's business with Marcy. Then he quickly realized how easily it could end in disaster. If Marcy returned from the mission with even a scratch on her, Steve really would finally haul him outside and give him the ass-kicking he had been deserving for a while. That really had been his only job. Marcy did the planning, the research, the sneaking and the espionage. Bucky was just the muscle to do the heavy hitting and to make sure Marcy stayed safe. Bucky had been satisfied with his part in the plan. However, he was still in protective mode, even in this safe house with its panic room, security system and various hidden weapons.

"I'm sorry," Steve told him, still keeping his voice low. "I should have come back with you guys yesterday and stayed the night here. I just already had this idea in my head of how things were supposed to go. And when they didn't go that way, I was too stubborn to compromise. I was so excited about the new compound. I really like it; even if you don't."

"And I'm sorry about that," Bucky whispered back.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. "I brought doughnuts. They're in the kitchen."

Bucky's eyes lit up as his stomach growled and he immediately walked up the hall.

Steve watched him go, but didn't follow. Instead, he entered Marcy's room, silently shutting the door behind him. In the bed, Marcy was still fast asleep, her hair splayed out everywhere around her head. He played with it a little as he dropped himself on the bed behind her. His face went blissfully to the back of her neck while one arm wrapped around her waist. As he pulled her in against him, he felt her stir.

"Good morning," he murmured.

Marcy didn't move or make a sound for several moments. Steve thought she was still asleep until she said in a rough voice, "That better be Steve or I have a lot of questions."

He chuckled into her skin. "It is."

Marcy stretched and rolled over onto her back so she could gaze blearily at him. One hand lazily ran its fingers through his hair. Steve in turn put his hand on her exposed mid section where her shirt and ridden up. He touched the uneven surface of her bullet wound scar. As much attention that was given to the neat, rectangular holes in her arm and thigh, they would not have killed her. This one could have and he would have lost her before he had really begun to know her.

The night previous at the compound had reminded him of that. But Marcy had chased that fear away as she let him touch all that she hid beneath her protective clothing. Steve was certainly interested in doing it again sometime soon as his hand slid up her shirt a little higher.

But Marcy just made a tired sound. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven," he said, nuzzling her ear.

"Seven? What time did you get up this morning?"

"Early," he said, still practically purring in her ear.

"Too early," she mumbled. When Steve's hands still continued to wander, she sat up with a grunt and blearily reached for some random clothes scattered on the floor. Steve watched with bemusement as she gracelessly dressed herself, removing and putting on clothes in random order. She payed little attention to the audience she had until she was done.

It wasn't until she was finished and Marcy tossed a quick, withering glance his way that Steve considered she might be irritated with him about something. He quickly jumped off the bed after her as she trudged up the hall. By the time he caught up to her, she was at the table, plopped in a chair opposite Bucky, staring off tiredly into space while the Winter Soldier munched on his second doughnut.

"You cut your hair," Steve finally noticed of his best friend. "I like it."

"Oh sure, you notice when _he_ cuts his hair," Marcy mumbled.

Steve gave her a careful look. "Are you feeling okay this morning, Marcy?"

"No, I'm tried," she said in a scratchy voice. "Between him not sleeping and you not letting me sleep, I am exhausted and cranky."

"I let you sleep," Steve insisted.

"Oh, really?" she challenged. "So that night at the compound, you let me get in a solid eight hours, huh? Fresh off my two-week mission."

The captain's eyes widened a bit. Oh no. He had a feeling he just started something he wasn't going to win.

"So you totally didn't keep me up all night long," Marcy accused. "Or then wake me up in the wee hours of the morning to go again. OR, then get me up early the next morning so we could try it in the shower."

Steve had never regretted a conversation so much in his life. "Do you have to bring this up in front of Bucky?" he asked, his face growing as red as Marcy's ever had in front of him.

"Don't mind me," said the Winter Soldier, extremely comfortable and amused at the conversation. "I have long accepted my third-wheel status in this relationship. Also: damn, Steve."

Steve covered his very red face with both hands.

Marcy smirked his way. Despite being tired and cranky, it was kind of fun to have the roles reversed where she was the cause for the blushing for once.

After a moment, Steve lowered his hands, though his cheeks were still a little pink. "Okay, fine. So what do you want me to do about it, then?"

"Why don't you take this one-" She pointed at Bucky. "And go spend a day at the compound." At Bucky's wide-eyed response she added, "You can still come back tonight if you want, Puppy Eyes. But I am dying for a quiet day at home alone so I can rest."

There was a pause before Steve said. "Can I also come back tonight?"

Bucky slapped his palms on the table. "Oh my god, Steve!"

* * *

.

The ride up to the compound was quiet with Steve at the wheel and Bucky watching the world pass by out the passenger window, his chin resting on his fist. Steve kept stealing glances at his friend while he drove. Bucky either didn't notice or was doing a great job of pretending he didn't notice. He seemed happy to let the entire drive go without a word exchanged between them. Even though it was unusual for there to be much silence when they were together.

For the six plus months the two had been reunited they had talked long into the night about both the past and the present and everything in between. All, except the things Bucky didn't talk about. And Steve did not bring them up. Not until this moment where he felt now was the time to start talking about all the things they had skipped around. It was time to start talking about what was important.

"Bucky, will you talk about it with me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Talk about what?" Bucky responded casually, his gaze not moving from the window.

"About why you slept in the hall last night. Or why you don't want to sleep at the compound. Or even any of those times when I find you on the floor next to my bed. I would love it if you wanted to talk about any of those nights."

Bucky gave him a glance this time before returning his eyes to the scenery. His body didn't move, but his muscles had tightened.

"Buck," Steve said when his friend didn't answer.

With a big sigh he responded, "What do you want me to tell you?"

" _Anything._ Tell me what it's like to be you. Please at least try to explain to me what keeps you up; what makes you so restless at night."

Bucky finally moved. He leaned back in his seat, facing forward and stretching his legs. He heaved out a big sigh. "I feel... haunted. All the time. I don't know how else to describe it."

"Haunted?"

"By ghosts. By the people I've killed, I think. They come for me when I sleep. They're always in my dreams. They're always trying to get to me."

Ice had crept up Steve's spine at those words. That was not what he was prepared to hear. "Not real ghosts," he rasped.

"I don't know, Steve!" Bucky instantly snapped back. "That's what it feels like to me! When I wake up, my chest is tight, I can't breathe. I can feel them suffocating me, hating me. Because I killed them all. And then, even worse, I completely forgot all about it. I don't remember a day when I woke up and I don't feel their claws around my neck!" That wasn't entirely true. There were a few times, and he had always woken up near Marcy when it happened. But he wasn't about to tell Steve that. Steve didn't need to know.

"Buck, I'm sorry," Steve said after a moment. "I didn't realize it was like that for you. Thank you for telling me. I know it's not something I can help you with, but I like to understand better what you're going through."

Bucky looked his way, giving him a weak smile. "You do help, Steve, just by being here for me. Really, it does help."

"Then why don't you want to stay at the compound? I will always be there. I thought it could be a place we could call home."

Irritation moved back into Bucky's voice. "It's a _compound_ , Steve! How is that a home? The SHIELD Central building I could handle because it wasn't just soldiers and... and Avengers all waiting for the next big catastrophe. There were normal people there doing normal things. I didn't have to be on constant alert. Marcy's house is a home. When all three of us were staying there, that felt like home, didn't it? A backyard, a dinner table where people eat together.

"No matter how you dress it up, your compound is just another training facility for soldiers and I don't want to be a soldier anymore, Steve. I'm tired!" His voice cracked as he rubbed his face with his hands. His voice became soft and sad. "I'm just so tired."

Steve had to make himself keep his eyes on the road and could only steal glances as his best friend broke down a little. And it was breaking his heart. The younger Bucky of his memories was always so cavalier, head held high and looking toward the future with eagerness. They had both romanticized the role of a soldier in their youth. Bucky joined the military readily, happy to serve his country.

Though there were many difficult things that came with being a soldier, Steve still loved it and thought Bucky felt the same. When his best friend had come back to him, even though it was by pure serendipity, the two naturally fell into place with each other. Bucky was exactly the person Steve remembered. They picked up right where they left off as if no time had passed between them. But it couldn't last forever and Steve should have known.

Bucky's facade was crumbling. He was trying to pretend all that time between then and now meant nothing. But Steve had slept while Bucky had stalked and killed for his puppet master. Even if those memories were taken from him, they still weighed on his soul. As much as Bucky tried to pretend it didn't happen, the weight was slowly breaking him. Steve could see that clearly now. They didn't want the same things from life anymore. Perhaps that would mean one day their paths would eventually diverge from each other. That thought terrified Steve the most.

He slowed the car and pulled over to the side. Bucky looked up when Steve put on his blinker and looked to the road behind him. When traffic cleared, Steve pulled a U-turn and started them back down the road they had come.

"Steve, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"A place we probably should have gone together a while ago."

* * *

.

Bucky was very surprised to find himself sitting on Dr. Adam's couch after he had been announced mentally fit to go in the field a few months prior. He honestly thought he would never have to see the man again after that. Bucky might have been mad that Steve's first thought after he had divulged his secrets was to take him to a shrink. But, this was the first time Steve had been on the couch with him.

Dr. Adams certainly had been surprised to see them show up at SHIELD HQ where he still worked, now part time. They did not have an appointment, but Adams always had an open door policy for all field agents who were in the more difficult lines of work. He listened quietly as mostly Steve talked, relaying what Bucky had told him in the car earlier, and then sharing his own fears about his best friend's future and whether or not he would be in it.

That last part clearly surprised Bucky. He had no idea what he had said in the car had stirred up such fears.

"Steve, you don't have to worry about me leaving you," Bucky said. "I've told you several times I'm not disappearing on you again. I meant it as much as I mean it now."

"That isn't what I meant," Steve replied. "I expected you and me to be partners in this, working for SHIELD from now on. I thought we would always be doing the same thing together until we're old men. But... you don't want to do that anymore. What if we just... drift apart and we stop seeing each other. I don't want that."

"Jeeze, Steve, you already have our whole lives planned out? That isn't even what I meant when I said that thing about not wanting to be a soldier. I like working for SHIELD, I like helping people, saving them. I want to keep doing that. I want to do good, I _need_ to do good. But... I have to do it my way. I don't want to live a soldier's life at a military base. I want to feel like a person going to a job like Mar—like how Agent Gray does it."

When neither of them had anything else to say, Dr. Adams finally spoke. "Alright, so what would you two like from me? What can I do for you about this?"

"Help him find peace," Steve begged in a voice that just about broke Bucky's heart. "I want Bucky to find whatever it is he's trying to figure out. I want him to be happy. But I don't know how to help him do this. That's why I brought him here."

Adams looked to the other soldier. "Bucky, do you want to start having regular sessions with me again? Would you like my help?"

Bucky glanced at Steve, feeling a little self-conscious at his friend's passion on his behalf. "I... guess. I honestly don't really know what I mean. But if you could help me figure that out, I don't mind coming to see you every now and then."

"I'll come, too," Steve said emphatically. "I'll be at every session if I need to."

Dr. Adams smiled a bit. "We'll see. Unfortunately, we're out of time right now. I have another appointment starting in a few minutes. Bucky, I would like you to make an appointment with my secretary. I'm going to think on what we've talked about and see if I can come up with a plan of action. In the meantime, I'm going to prescribe you some medication to help you get some rest."

"What?" Bucky protested. "I don't need you to drug me! That's not why we came here."

The doctor met his gaze sternly. "Sargent Barnes, you _need_ to sleep. Your lack of getting proper rest is no doubt greatly contributing to your anxieties and your difficulties dealing with everyday life. Even if it's a heavily-drugged dreamless sleep, you need it." With that, he ripped the prescription off his pad and handed it to Steve, who was sitting the closest. "Start with three pills. If that doesn't work, go up to four. Do not go higher than four without talking to me first. A handful of these could knock out a horse, but with your altered metabolism, we have to go big. Try it for a few days and see how it goes. We can discuss how you're feeling then and see if there's anything we need to change."

Steve looked at the script, a bit disappointed as well. "But what do we do until then? We came here for some sort of direction."

"No more missions for a while. Stay away from stressful situations. And..." Dr. Adams gazed at the two thoughtfully. "Go do something stupid and fun together."

Steve and Bucky looked at each other. Steve grinned.

* * *

.

Even though he was driving, Sam Wilson still looked at his phone when it rang. When the caller ID showed up as Steve, he answered it.

"Hey, what up, Cap? I'm almost at the compound." He paused as he listened to the voice on the other end. "What do you mean turn around? You're not there? Where the hell are you?" Another pause. "Are you serious, Rogers?" Sam sighed heavily. "Fine. I'm turning around."

* * *

.

It was nearly an hour's drive to get upstate to the compound so it took Sam a good while to get back down to the city and to the wooded area behind SHIELD central where Steve Rogers and several others were waiting. He raised a hand in greeting to Sam as he got out of his car. Sam just nodded as he walked down the grassy incline to where all the people were gathered. Clint and Natasha were there. So was Tony Stark who also looked newly arrived and just as confused. Several other members of SHIELD were there, too. Some Sam recognized who now worked at the compound. Others must have come from HQ.

"Thanks for coming," Steve grinned as Sam approached. "Sorry to make you do the back and forth."

"It's fine, man. What else do I have to do today?" Sam paused when he saw who was lurking behind the captain. "Barnes," he greeted neutrally.

Bucky glared at him. "Wilson."

Steve sighed a little. His two good friend just did not like, or maybe even trust, each other. Even though there was good reason, mostly on Sam's part, Steve hoped they would put it behind them eventually. Maybe this exercise would help.

"So what's up, Cap?" Tony then said as he put away his phone and approached the group. He glanced over to Natasha and Clint who were digging through some crates, looking quite excited. There were other agents with them, checking out some sort of gear. "I see you brought your life partner with you. What's so important that you demanded us out here?"

"I didn't demand anything of you, Tony," Steve insisted. "I sent you a courtesy invitation that said you could come if you wanted to. It wasn't mandatory."

"Well I came anyway. So what are we all doing here?"

Steve grinned and motioned to the gear. "Something stupid and fun."

* * *

.

Sam crept through the woods, in full protective gear and helmet, fighting to keep his breathing under control. His heart raced like he was being hunted. That wasn't far from the truth. It was so quiet out there, but the enemy could be anywhere. He crouched behind a good patch of thick brush and moved carefully closer. Up in the distance, the woods parted and he could see a red flag hanging in sight. But there were also clearly guards nearby keeping an eye out.

"This is Wilson," he whispered on his radio. "I see the flag. I'm close. We've got two sentries guarding it. Anyone else in the area?"

A few careful, quiet voices answered in the negative. Everyone else was silent. Sam was about to get on the radio again when he suddenly felt a sharp sting on his back. Several more followed and he felt the biting hit of each one. He quickly jumped up to his feet.

"You got me, you got me, okay? Stop!" He turned around and ripped off his eye shield in rage when he saw who the shooter was. "What?! Goddamnit, Barnes! I'm on YOUR team!" He was shot again, the blue paint—the color of his team—splattered over his chest plate.

"Are you serious?!"

Bucky soundlessly flipped him off and magically disappeared into the woods again.

Sam got back on his radio, turning it to hit all frequencies, not just the ones for his team. "Steve! Get your stupid hitman of a boyfriend under control! He just shot his own teammate!"

There were several snickers on the other end and Steve's low voice mumbling about how they were not boyfriends.

Suddenly, there was another hit to Sam's chest. He spun around, expecting Bucky to be back. No one was in sight. He looked down. The paint was red this time.

"That better, Wilson?" Clint's voice came on the radio. "Now you're officially out."

"Fine," Sam snapped back. "But next round, we're changing it up."

* * *

.

It was late in the afternoon when Marcy pulled up to the wooded area outside SHIELD HQ. There were still several cars in the employee parking lot despite the fact it was hitting dinnertime, and even more cars parked on the outskirts where it was clear people had been hanging out all day.

Marcy nodded greetings to the few SHIELD employees she recognized and then walked over to Natasha. The redhead sat on a large crate holding a field radio in her hand so she could listen to the chatter.

"Hey, what's going on out here? Steve called me out. Asked if I wanted to catch some dinner."

"Marcy. Hi. The guys are still out in the woods." Natasha had a few flecks of paint on her face and hands.

"Out doing what?"

"Paint-balling."

"Without me?" Marcy protested. "I was the one who told Steve it was even a thing! Why wasn't I invited?"

"Well for one, you said you wanted a quiet day to yourself. And for the other, Steve told me not to let you play when you showed up. After he found out exactly how hard those paint balls hit, he said he would rather you not. Especially since he would be tempted to kill anyone who shot you."

"Aw, that's weirdly sweet in a big, dumb, muscle-bound hero sort of way."

"Even though Steve asked, I made no such promises. You can gear up and go down there if you want."

Marcy thought about it for a moment. "Nah. I'm going to give him this. I want Steve to have things he can do with his guy friends without me. He can have this and baseball and I will happily stay out of it."

"Probably a good choice. The only ones who are left playing now are those who are making it weirdly over-competitive. No more teams, just out and out melee mode. It's kill or be killed down there."

"All the testosterone you can take," Marcy added with amusement. "Well that explains all the swearing on the radio."

Natasha chuckled.

"Where's Barton?" a voice demanded on the radio. "Someone get Barton before he picks us all off!"

"Damnit, Rogers, you spangly doofus!" That voice sounded like Tony's. "If your ass shoots me one more time I'm going to break my foot off in it!"

"You know with the guys finding their own thing to do," Natasha suggested over the radio chatter, "we could get in like a girl's day out or something."

Marcy looked at her. "That is the most cliche` thing I have ever heard you say."

The redhead shrugged. "Maybe we could take Wanda with us, too. I think she could use some friends. Yes, she has freaky powers that, quite frankly, scare the hell out of me sometime. But she's also scared and alone after losing the only family she had left. She's nice, when she's on your side."

Marcy folded her arms over her chest, thinking to herself. "Yeah," she said after a while. "Maybe we can figure something out. It might be good to have a friend on your side with super scary powers, right?"

Natasha gave a non-commital shrug.

The two female agents and a few other random stragglers stayed and amused themselves with the radio chatter until those out playing finally decided to call it a day and slowly began to emerge from the woods.

Steve, Bucky, Tony, Clint, Sam and various other SHIELD agents took their time as they appeared, laughing with each other about the day's events. They didn't get too far before they started to group up, still joking and jeering with each other about who shot who.

Marcy watched them with fading patience when they stopped getting closer. "At this rate I'm never going to get dinner. I'm starving. Steve! James!" No one in the distant group seemed to hear her. She tried again. "Steve! Steve! James? Bucky!"

Nothing. Marcy sighed. She was not a loud person and did not enjoy yelling. Her voice wasn't particularly piercing even when she was trying to be loud. When it was still apparent the distant group was going to keep yakking, Marcy sucked in a breath and cupped her hands around her mouth. "STEVEN GRANT! JAMES BUCHANON!"

Two heads finally looked up in her direction. Marcy impatiently pointed to her wrist where a watch would be if she wore one. Steve raised a hand to her, letting her know he was aware she was waiting on them. After a few more moments of talk, the group finally made their way up the incline toward the parked cars and those who waited for them.

"Wow, you guys are covered," Marcy greeted as the last combatants of the day began taking off their gear. "All except Clint, anyway."

"Yo," grinned the archer. He had a few paint spots on him, but not nearly as much as the others.

"The little sniper cheated," Tony accused.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "There should be some rule about hiding up in the trees."

"But there wasn't," Clint countered. "Every hit was legal. You want to make rules next time, be my guest."

"So, are we going to go eat?" Marcy pressed at Steve as he began removing his gear.

Steve checked his condition under the protective gear. "It might be a minute. We're both gross and sweaty. You probably want us to shower first."

Looking to the sky, Marcy gave a growl of impatience.

"Uh oh, Marcy's hangry," Natasha teased. "You guys are pressing your luck."

"Oh, we've seen the storm before," Bucky called from a few feet back. "We can weather it again."

"Storm?" Marcy protested. "I'm not that bad!"

"Then maybe we'll take our time cleaning up. And I'm not really sure I know where I want to eat. It could be a while until we decide."

"James Barnes, I will straight up murder you."

He laughed. "I do love a girl who speaks her mind."

* * *

.

In the communal men's shower room inside SHIELD Central, the two soldiers hurried to clean up and dress. Bucky rubbed his wet hair with a towel and frowned when he found more paint on his neck in the mirror. The stuff got everywhere, no matter how much gear he was wearing.

Steve was quiet. His brain had been caught on the moment earlier, when Marcy had yelled for him. "Hey Buck, is it just me, or is it kind of sexy when a woman uses your first and middle name?"

Bucky thought back to it as well. He completely agreed, but decided on a partial truth to tell his friend. "I could see the appeal. Although, I remember your mother would also call you Steven Grant when you got into trouble."

"Don't ruin this for me," Steve warned, though he was already daydreaming about how Marcy would talk to him if he got her irritated enough. Why did that turn him on? He decided he wasn't going to share that thought with his friend.

But then he realized something and asked, "Am I a terrible boyfriend for not knowing Marcy's middle name? I never thought to ask her."

Bucky didn't even look up from where he was putting on his boots. "You are always a terrible boyfriend and her middle name is Lenore."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "What? No it's not. You made that up."

"I did not. We were stuck together for two weeks. Lots of surveillance; a lot of downtime. So we talked. She once asked me about my middle name, if it was a family name, or if I was named after the president. So I asked her what hers was."

Steve rolled that around in his brain for a moment. "Marcia Lenore Gray. That's quite a mouthful."

"That's what I said," Bucky replied with a laugh.

Although, Steve's brain mused, Marcia Lenore _Rogers_ had quite a pleasant sound to it.

He quickly shook himself. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a school girl with her first crush. Get it together, Rogers.

When they exited the from the men's shower, Marcy was not anywhere to greet them despite her eagerness for dinner. Bucky, irritated she wasn't there, was about to call her, but Steve had an inkling he knew where she was.

The two soldiers rode the elevator to a different floor and walked down a hall where most of the walls were glass. This was mostly so people could see clearly what was going on inside. It was meant to make them feel safer. But it also gave the lab a very bright, friendly feeling for those who were inside. At least it was, until the owner of the lab disappeared.

Inside, where Steve expected to find Marcy, there was another person in there with her. Tony Stark stood a little hunched, his hands shoved in his pockets. Both had their backs to the glass wall, talking among themselves. Tony muttered something as he looked at the ground, scuffing his shoe on the hard floor. Marcy patted his shoulder. She said something that made Tony chuckle.

Marcy missed Bruce. Steve didn't realize it until now. Bruce was a large part of her daily routine when she was a more constant presence at HQ. She cared about him; always liked to check on him and see how he was doing. She liked being in his presence, spending time with him. And she felt loss just as Tony felt loss when Bruce suddenly disappeared on them all.

Steve gave the two a few more moments before tapping on the glass. Both turned around to see who it was. Marcy was smiling, like Steve knew she would be. Even though he also knew she wasn't smiling when their backs were turned. She didn't like to show him her sadness or her fear; Steve was starting to realize this about her. Today was a revelation that there were still many things he had to learn about Marcia Lenore Gray.

* * *

.

As soon as they piled in the car, Marcy took them to the closest buffet style restaurant she could find.

"Oh, hey, don't I owe you guys dinner?" Bucky remembered as they were in line to pay.

"Yes, but you are supposed to take us _out_ to dinner," Marcy insisted. "A real dinner at a nice place. This place doesn't count as an 'I ruined your relationship and you almost died' apology dinner."

"I suppose not," Bucky mused while Steve just grinned.

"Though if you want to pay..." Marcy said with a grin of her own. "I'm not going to stop you."

Bucky didn't even think twice about it. He had hardly spent any money from any of the pay checks he received from SHIELD. "Sure, my treat anyway."

All of them were ravening and consumed their meals at a quick pace. Half way through, Steve brought up the impromptu session with Dr. Adams and what had caused them to go. Bucky was less comfortable with sharing his short-comings, but the look of gentle concern on Marcy's face and then her smile of support made him feel better. She said she would help any way she could and Bucky decided perhaps it was good that he started to talk to his friends about his struggles. Why had he tried so hard to do it all alone?

"Hey, James," Marcy said, eyeballing the buffet meat station in the back corner. "Do me a favor and get me a big slice of that smoked ham."

"Why me?"

"Because they see me and think 'oh, she's a small woman, she only wants a tiny slice', but you're a big dude. They'll give you more."

Bucky laughed.

"Did you even have lunch today?" Steve wondered. "I've never seen you eat so much."

Marcy shrugged. "Well, it's different since I'm eating for two now."

Steve's face froze, the color draining. "You're... pregnant?" he squeaked.

She grinned wide at him and Steve instantly regretted believing her.

"Yeah, because I would totally know after a whole two days. Do you know what else? If you look up the word 'gullible' in the dictionary-"

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Your picture's in there, Steve."

"Fine, you got me."

"Right below the word, a picture of you: Steve Rogers."

* * *

.

That night, all three decided to stay at Marcy's house for the night. They sat together on the couch, Marcy in the middle, and watched movies until it was late. Steve reminded Bucky of his new sleep medication. He took the large pills begrudgingly under Steve's watchful gaze. Bucky was still secretly expecting nothing to change no matter how many pills he took.

"Are you going to bed?" Steve prodded when he found Bucky sometime later standing at the open back door, listening to the sound of the crickets.

"I don't know. We'll find out if these pills do anything."

Steve put his hands on his hips. "You can at least go to bed and try to sleep."

Bucky grunted and frowned at the night. "I'll go to bed if I feel like it. I don't like sleeping. Sleeping is what I was allowed to do when they were through with me. When I had done all their dirty work, then they would put me away again, never to look at me until they needed me." He touched his metal arm with a sigh. "And it burned the entire time."

Steve looked distressed and Bucky was instantly sorry he had said anything.

"Look, I get it, Buck. It feels like if you close your eyes, you'll be frozen all over again and you'll lose time. But you're going to have to get over it eventually. You need to sleep. I can see the exhaustion in you. It ages you."

Bucky let out a quiet huff. "Ages me. You know, I think I might be older than you now, Steve. Maybe even a few years older if you add up all the time they pulled me out of the deep freeze again and again. Or maybe... maybe it isn't because of the ice that we're still young like this. Maybe we _don't age_ , Steve. What if we're always this way, forever?" He nodded toward the hallway. "What if she grows old and we don't?"

Fear raced across Steve's features at the idea, his face going pale. It went quickly as Marcy walked into the kitchen and the two men pretended they weren't talking about such dire topics. She seemed to pick up on it anyway.

"James, are you being mean to Steve?"

His mouth ticked up slightly. "A little. Sorry."

She gave him a light slap on his flesh arm and then asked, "Feel anything yet? Getting sleepy at all?"

"Not yet."

"How long's it been?"

"Maybe twenty minutes, maybe a little more."

She waved it off. "You still have time. I've used sleep meds before. They can take a while to kick in. Don't worry about it. I'll stay up with you if you want."

He smiled at her slightly. "Do as you like."

"If we're staying up, I'm going to wear something more comfortable," Steve announced and walked back down the hall to change out of his jeans. Bucky didn't expect him back for a while. He had just given Steve a scary dose of possibilities that he was probably going to chew on by himself for a while.

"So," Marcy then asked. "Was it fun today playing pretend gunfight?"

"It was, actually," Bucky admitted. "I honestly didn't think it would be. But I had a great time."

"A lot of those guys you had a great time with work or even live at the compound."

Bucky's face sobered a little at the mention of it.

"You could have fun there," Marcy pressed. "Maybe go there during the day and you can always come back here at night if you wanted."

"You trying to get rid of me, Marcy?" he challenged with a raised brow.

"I want you to give the compound an honest chance. For Steve, not for me. You will never not have a place here, but I think you're missing an opportunity by not giving it your best try."

Bucky lowered his head, giving her words some honest consideration. Then, he began to sway as the room rocked back and forth around him. He put a hand on the wall to keep his balance as he shook his head.

"Drugs kicking in?" Marcy asked in amusement.

"Maybe." A heavier bout of dizziness hit him and it was suddenly a struggle to stay on his feet. The floor seemed to slip out from under him for a second and then Marcy was at his side, an arm around his waist. His solid anchor in this drifting room.

"Come on," she said, "let's get you to the bedroom and you can sit down."

For a while, it seemed like he had forgotten how to walk before he remembered to put one foot in front of the other. "Thank you," he muttered. "For everything."

"I honestly don't feel like I've done anything for you," she admitted. "I wish I knew how to be of more help."

Maybe it was the drugs that loosened his thoughts and his lips. Without thinking, Bucky murmured in her ear. "I need you. You steady me. Please don't let me go."

Marcy's heart skipped, her face suddenly hot. His breath, his voice, still warm in her ear. What did he mean? She was keeping him steady right now. Maybe he was talking about that and she was hearing a meaning that wasn't there. She gripped him tighter, putting his flesh arm over her shoulders. "I'm not leaving you when you can barely walk. Come on, help me get you to your room."

It was clear Bucky was trying to help, but with each step down the hall, he grew more clumsy and more of his weight leaned on her. Still, Marcy managed to get him to his room where he stood unsteadily.

"Hold on, hold on," she urged while he tried to keep his eyes open. "Let me get the blankets for you." When she dared leave him under his own power, she quickly turned to pull away the covers so he could slide under them. When she turned back around, Bucky was already falling toward her. As she tried to catch him, she caught sight of Steve walking past while Bucky's heavier weight toppled her over.

"Um, Steve? Steve!"

The captain reacted as quickly as he could, darting in to try to catch the weight of his collapsing friend. But he over-reached as he stretched out his arm and also lost his balance. All three of them fell on the bed, Bucky a dead weight on top of the other two. Marcy could be heard laughing quietly, which made Steve laugh, too.

"Looks like those pills do pack a good punch, huh Buck?" There was no response or movement from the body on top of him. "Bucky? Buck." Steve shook him a little. "Wow. He is completely out."

"Dead to the world," Marcy agreed. Bucky's sleeping face pointed in her direction and it was lax with unconsciousness.

"I didn't think he would be this heavy. Am I this heavy?"

"You are both heavy," Marcy said.

Then there was silence between them. They just lay there on the bed, watching the ceiling with the Winter Soldier passed out sloppily on top of them.

Steve turned his head, straining to see Marcy over Bucky. "You're not getting up," he accused.

" _You're_ not getting up," she shot back.

They stayed where they were for a moment longer. Marcy slowly slipped her arms around Bucky's sleeping form and hugged him. Steve watched her, wondering if he should be feeling some jealousy, but he didn't.

"I wish I knew what else we could do for him besides drugging him," she said softly.

"We're working on it," Steve said. "We'll get there. It just takes some time." With that, he slipped out from under Bucky's weight and then helped Marcy do the same. The two put the sleeping soldier more comfortably into bed and then retired to the master bedroom.

Steve shut the door after them. Marcy was already sliding her arms out of her t-shirt sleeves so she could get to her under garment. Even though she was in her pajamas, she had been wearing a bra while wandering the house. It seemed like a polite thing to do, alone in a house with two men used to 1940's modesty. Though if they had told her they didn't care, she wouldn't have cared. Working at SHIELD, especially in the field, had made her desensitized to changing clothes in front of others, both men and women.

She had already startled Steve a few times when he had idly followed her to her room and she just started removing her clothes to change. That usually sent him scooting out to wait in the hall until she was done. At least that was how it used to be before two nights ago. Steve didn't leave the room this time. In fact, when she had finished tossing her bra on the floor, Steve grabbed the shirt from behind and lifted it over her head.

"I'll help you with that," he offered pleasantly.

Now it was Marcy's turn to be startled as she was suddenly topless. She turned around to face him and was overcome with the urge to cover herself from his gaze. Quickly dressing in front of fellow agents was completely different than having a super hot super soldier just stare at you when you're half dressed. She awkwardly folded her arms over her chest and glanced away.

"What?" Steve asked, greatly amused.

"You're just staring at me," she accused.

"Is that not okay? I've already seen all of it."

She flushed a little, not meeting his gaze. "It's not the same. The lights were off."

"Not when we were in the shower the next morning."

The shower felt different, too. It was a small space. She didn't feel so exposed there like she did under Steve's full attention.

"How about if I join you?" he suggested and casually pulled off his shirt, tossing it on the floor Marcy style.

He moved closer and Marcy turned her head just in time to see those well-sculpted pectorals right in her face. She actually backed up a little, her heart racing. When they were both clothed and in the company of others, Marcy talked about intimacy in a casual and almost flippant way. But when they were alone and Steve was a hair's breath away, removing his clothes, her personal hangups always made her hesitate.

A history of romantic rejection from the men she fancied made her gun-shy. A part of her still remained distant, ready for it to all suddenly blow up in her face. A little voice told her that Steve was settling, that maybe he didn't really want her to touch him. That maybe this was all a joke that would one day leave her alone and humiliated all over again.

Steve took her wrist; raised up to her eye level so she would look at him. He waited until her dark gaze locked with his eyes of blue. "I _want_ you to touch me," he rasped in a voice that vibrated in her spine. "Marcy, I love you. I will always want you." He directed her hand down, pressing her palm against his stomach. "I told you the other night, you can touch me whenever you want, where ever you want. I'm yours."

Marcy let out the shaky breath she had been holding. "Why do you always have to be so goddamn hot?" she blurted out, her face feeling like it was on fire.

He started laughing silently, pressing his forehead to hers as his shoulders shook. "You know, I think you're hot, too."

"Bullshit, Rogers."

"Why are you swearing at me?" There was still laughter in his voice. "All I've thought about since you left the compound was how to get you back in bed." He paused as he considered his position. "It's that... too much? Am I pushing too hard?"

Marcy returned her gaze to his enticing abs. She breathed out as she pressed both palms to his skin and felt the muscles quiver under her touch. "Honestly, it's confusing my self-esteem. It's used to being in a sort of low-medium position. I don't always know what I should do with your affections. If you haven't noticed, I am not good at this."

"I think we've established we are both very bad at love," he returned, his amusement back. "That's why we have each other to practice. So we can get better."

He sucked in a breath as her palms slid up his chest before cupping his neck. "Tell me I'm not just your practice for someone else, someone better."

"You're never that. I want to get better for you, for us. You don't know how happy you make me, how much being around you feels like home. You make me laugh; I never know what you're going to do or say next." His voice lowered as he moved closer to her ear. "You do things to me. I love discovering all the little things you do that will suddenly make me..." He gripped her hips, pressing her into his own so she could feel the evidence of his arousal. He groaned into her neck, brushing his nose against the column of her throat. His voice was heavy, breathy as he whispered. "When you say you doubt me, it makes me want to pin you down and make you mine over and over until you'll never doubt it again."

Marcy pulled back to look at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She looked him in the face for several moments and Steve waited patiently for her to make the next move. Eventually, she pressed her lips together in a thin line and looked as though she had come up with a decision. Hands on his shoulders, she backed Steve into the bed and he sat down on the edge. Marcy retreated from his arms and stood before him. Her gaze never leaving his, she removed the rest of her clothes and then climbed up to straddle his lap. Steve readily received her, one hand resting on her hip while the other released the pencil sticking out of her hair to keep it up in its sloppy bun. Steve liked her hair down. She hardly ever wore it that way. He found spending the night with her was the surest way to see it.

He ran his fingers through her hair and then let his broad hands skim over her shoulders and back. Marcy cupped his face, kissing his forehead in that adoring way that always made his heart ache and his body forget his physical needs for a moment. Then she kissed his mouth; light at first, and then deeply, thoroughly, making his hands slide down to cup her backside and press her flush against him.

When Steve was properly flushed from her affections, she pushed him down to lay flat on the bed. Then she did what he had given her permission to do: touch him wherever she liked. She took her time to learn his scars, to find the places that made his breath hitch and his body warm. She touched him, with her hands, with her mouth, until he was restless on the bed, beaded with sweat and panting. Then it was Steve's turn to take over. Everything he did was careful and gentle. Marcy had expressed during their first night that she was concerned about his strength. Steve was, too. He had little experience to learn how much strength he could use safely without hurting his partner.

He took her slow, deep; taking his time, as he had done the previous times before. However, when Marcy hooked her legs around him and asked in a breathless voice to go a little bit harder, he nearly lost it. More than anything else, it was always those desperate, delicious sounds she made that would push him over the edge. The fact that she was trying to stay quiet because of the other house guest was even hotter. All those sounds were rasped in his ear, like a dirty secret just for him. And when she nipped at his lobe, he helplessly crashed.

Only then, when they were both sated and exhausted, when her scent was all around him, her body draped over his like a blanket, did Steve allow the lights to go out.

* * *

Author's Notes: Nightbloodwolf wanted more sexy in this fic, so, enjoy. Unless you didn't want sexy then... sorry? The squeaky wheel gets the grease. I've been listening to those who leave comments with this one. You wanna see something, gotta say something. Thanks all for reading! See you in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3: Hold Me Closer

.

 **All Of Me**

 **Chapter Three: Hold Me Closer**

Marcy walked past Bucky's room for the kitchen, but she paused when she noticed something unexpected. Bucky was still fast asleep on the bed. They had left him slumbering on his back the night before. Now, he was face down on the bed, face covered with both his hair and pillow. Next to him sat a large gray cat, watching him patiently.

"Oh, hey buddy," Marcy cooed. "Are you waiting for Bucky to get up so he can pet you?"

Dippy gave a pleading meow in her direction.

"Don't worry, he'll be up soon enough." At least she hoped he would. It was getting late in the morning. Bucky had been sleeping for nearly ten hours. Suddenly worried, Marcy entered and set a light hand on his back. He was still breathing; that was a relief. Bucky stirred a little with a big sigh, but still remained asleep.

Marcy wondered if there would be some point where they should be waking Bucky up if he slept to long. For now, she left him alone and went to the kitchen to get breakfast. Steve, of course, was already in there, fresh from the shower after his morning run and reading the paper over toast and orange juice. For a moment, her life felt so normal it made her heart ache. What if they could start a life like this? Just waking up every morning in a normal house with breakfast and only normal things scheduled for the day.

Steve looked up when Marcy walked by and placed a kiss on the crown of his head. He grabbed her wrist when she tried to move away and pulled her down so he could get a proper good-morning kiss. They pulled away when they heard a heavy thud in the other chair.

There sat Bucky, looking more like hell warmed over than someone who had a long, restful sleep. The wild nest of hair was not even attempted to be tamed and his dark eyes had even darker bags than before. The expression on his face could have soured milk just by looking at it.

"How do you feel?" Steve asked.

Bucky leaned forward with a cranky groan, hitting his forehead on the table.

"That good, huh?"

Marcy moved behind him, gently lifting his head from the table and feeling his forehead and neck for a fever. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick?"

Bucky rubbed his face with exhaustion. "I feel like I've been hit with a truck. Everything's so... heavy, slow. It's hard to move. Can't get myself to wake up. Barely managed to get out of bed."

"He's still drugged," Marcy decided.

"Well, Dr. Adams did liken them to horse tranquilizers. He wanted to make sure Bucky would be out cold." Steve said.

"Those were massive pills. How many did you take?"

"Three."

"Let's go down to two tonight and see how that goes."

Bucky went back to dropping his face onto the table. He sat back up again when there was suddenly a large cat in his lap and he scratched Dippy's ears tiredly.

"Want to go back to bed?" Marcy asked with sympathy.

Bucky heaved a large sigh. "No, I'm going to go shower." He picked up the cat and took him with him back to the bedroom.

* * *

.

The shower helped to perk him up, but Bucky was still yawning as the three of them drove upstate to the compound together. None of them had made it there the day before despite best intentions. It took about an hour to get there and he had dozed off in the back seat by the time they arrived. Steve left the others to visit his quarters while Marcy took Bucky by the arm and said they were going to wander around and look at the place. Steve knew she was trying to get Bucky to warm up to the compound. He appreciated her effort.

While Steve was in his quarters, there was a knock at his door.

"Open," he told the automatic system and the door unlocked for the person outside. "I'm in here," he called from his bedroom.

Moments later, Natasha appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She watched as Steve continued to pack his travel bag with fresh clothes. "Do you ever plan on living here again?"

Steve stopped what he was doing and looked at his bag with a long exhale. "Eventually. Bucky's got some things going on we've got to sort out."

"Dangerous things?"

"No, just... it's going to take him a while. And I know Marcy's willing to take care of him, but I don't want to make Bucky's problems Marcy's problems."

Natasha nodded in approval.

"So did I miss anything?" Steve then asked.

"Nothing related to work. But Clint and I picked up something last night. He insisted we take it back with us." When Steve looked at her curiously, she jerked her head toward the door. "He's fiddling with it now. Come see."

* * *

.

"You picked this up at a garage sale?" Marcy marveled at the very aged cabinet style piano.

"Yeah, isn't that crazy?" Clint confirmed from where his head was inside the instrument, fiddling with the strings. Tuning a piano was not something he was adept at, but he did his best for now with plans on getting a professional in to fix it up later. "Took us forever to get it up the stairs. I could have used your super soldiers, but you kept them all to yourself yesterday."

He pulled out and sat at the bench, pressing a few different keys. "That's probably the best it's going to get. What do you think, D-List?"

Bucky raised his palms in surrender. "You're asking the wrong person. I don't know anything about music."

"None? Isn't that all you guys had to do back then? Play music? I would have pictured you as a trumpet guy."

"So sorry, Clint," Marcy grinned. "Your dream of having a garage jazz band still isn't going to happen."

"What is that?" demanded Steve's distant voice. "Why is it just sitting around out here where we do indoor drills?"

As he and Natasha walked closer, Clint said, "You're welcome to move it anywhere else. It's not an easy piece of furniture to relocate."

"You scuffed up my new floors!" Then Steve paused and asked. "You play piano?"

"Since I was four. I had a normal home life as a kid. What? You think I was just hatched out of SHIELD HQ and immediately went to work?"

"Who do you think plays the piano at my mom's house?" Marcy added.

"Your mother, I thought." Steve paused again. "Do you play?"

Marcy shrugged. "I know _how_ to play the piano. But I'm not as good as Clint. I haven't even touched one in several years." Clint was already stationed on the bench, hands poised. Marcy sat next to him facing the opposite direction. "Do you still remember how?"

Clint grinned at her. "You should know by now that I don't forget how to do anything." He hit the keys. The sound of the old piano was a bit rough and out of tune, but his fingers flew lightly over the keys as easily as if he practiced every day. The tune was quick and catchy with hint of a melancholy undertone. Then Clint began to sing in a surprisingly well-controled voice.

 _Blue jean baby, L.A. lady,_

 _Seamstress for the band  
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, _

_You'll marry a music man_

Natasha, who walked up to the side of the piano, received a wink from Clint as he continued to sing.

 _Ballerina, you must have seen her_

 _Dancing in the sand_

As he played and sang, Marcy was taken back in time. Clint, who was older than her, had been in SHIELD for a few years before she was ready for the field. He was her first field partner. Being a rising star in SHIELD, his skills nearly super human, her mother had been very impressed with Clint and liked him instantly. She insisted Marcy invite him over for dinner and _Tiny Dancer_ was the song he first played on her mother's piano while they were waiting for the food to be ready.

Marcy had stood in the entrance way that connected the dining room and living room, listening to him play. At that time, she felt herself falling for him. Her mother had snuck up behind her and whispered "You should marry that man."

Marcy instantly turned beat red with a "Mom!" and quickly retreated into the kitchen. To this day she still wasn't sure if Clint had heard any of that, though he did have very sharp hearing to go with his sharp eyes. And he had seemed quite pleased with himself at dinner that night.

Of course, nothing came of her young crush on her first partner. But she still loved him; she supposed she would always love him. Though it certainly wasn't the same way she loved Steve. Or James, for that matter. Three men, three different loves. Clint, the crush of her novice days, and still one of her dearest, most relatable friends. James, the one who saved her life when she was surrounded by pain and ready to give up. She would love him until the day she died for that. And then Steve, the one she was in love with. The one who felt like she could fit snugly in the space around him. The one who felt more and more like home.

Leaning back on the bench, she joined Clint in singing the words and their voices joined flawlessly.

 _Piano man he makes his stand  
In the auditorium  
Looking on she sings the songs  
The words she knows, the tune she hums_

Natasha, still standing by the piano watching Clint, remained silent. She wasn't good at singing or music. Nor did she even know about Clint's ability at the piano, not until last night. And she had no idea how well he could play until right then. He and Marcy sounded so perfect together. She knew this was hardly the first time they had done this.

There had been several times when Natasha had wondered if she should have backed out and let Clint and Marcy have a chance. They seemed perfect together; they seemed like they were meant to be. But the more she got to know them both, the more she realized her assumption was way off base. They went well together because they were the same. Two agents who both lived with one foot in the dangerous underground world where Natasha solely resided, and the other foot planted firmly in the light, everyday norm. They were two marshmallows who could turn deadly and dangerous if pushed.

Natasha still remembered with a half smile the day she realized she got along so well with Marcy because Marcy was like a girl version of Clint. The two never would have worked out. They could not complete each other because they were too much the same. But that didn't mean they didn't care about each other.

Before, in Natasha's world, there were only two kinds of people: allies and enemies. When Clint found her, when he took her back to SHIELD instead of killing her, he taught her there could be more. He taught her what romantic love was. And then there was Marcy who did not despise Clint for not choosing her. She taught Natasha that there were many different ways to love people and she would always be grateful for that lesson.

As the music played, Steve approached Marcy on the bench. She stopped singing when he surprised her by extending a hand in invitation. With slightly wider eyes, she allowed him to pull her up and then press her flush against him. He began swaying easily to the music.

"So you can dance," Marcy said, impressed.

"Bucky's been teaching me on the side. He said since I had a girl, I needed to learn to dance quick or you'll—I believe his words were 'dump my ass for him.'"

She laughed. "Don't worry. I plan to keep your ass and the rest of you."

"Oh good, I was planning on being kept. I'm glad we're on the same page."

 _But oh how it feels so real  
Lying here with no one near  
Only you and you can hear me  
When I say softly, slowly_

Called by the unexpected sound of music, Wanda wandered into the wide area to find the group of heroes idly goofing around near an old piano. Clint, Natasha, and Steve were really the only people she knew in this place. She had been trying to stay out of everyone's way while all the staff and its heroes were settling in. She knew she was somewhat of a ward to the Avengers. Without them, she would have no place to live, nowhere to go. And she also knew none of them wanted her let loose on the world without any idea of where she was or what she was doing; not with her powers.

So she was stuck here, a part of the Avengers, but not really a part of them. She still wasn't sure exactly what being an Avenger even meant. A part of her suspected most of it meant staying in here until there was another mass-murdering robot, or an alien invasion, or some other world-wide catastrophe. In truth, still mourning the death of her brother, she was fine with being left alone. Spending many hours in silence, she drifted around in her own vast consciousness, a deep world inside herself courtesy of her strange powers.

And then suddenly, there was music somewhere in the building. She followed the sound and there were _people_. Not the Avengers, not icons and caricatures of costumed heroes, but human beings. For the first time, something in this stainless still facility felt just a tiny bit like home. She didn't even realize she was continuing to drift toward the group until a man's had reached out to her. She followed the arm up to see it was attached to Sargent Barnes.

He smiled at her while she stared at him in confusion. He nodded his head and extended his arm a little further. She couldn't believe he was looking her right in the face and asking her to dance. Most of the staff in this place would avert their eyes or even go a different direction if they saw her.

 _You are not afraid of me?_

 _I guess not._

Curious, she took his hand and he pulled her in, a hand on the small of her back. It was so easy and natural as if he did it every day. He smiled at her as they danced to the song. Wanda felt her face get hot.

 _Hold me closer tiny dancer  
Count the headlights on the highway  
Lay me down in sheets of linen  
You had a busy day today_

Wanda was still in a bit of a stupor as Bucky put her in a twirl. Her red skirt floated about her thighs. Was she having... fun? When was the last time she had fun? Not since she was a little girl. Was this also what it meant to be part of the Avengers?

 _Hold me closer tiny dancer  
Count the headlights on the highway  
Lay me down in sheets of linen  
You had a busy day today_

Natasha, still leaning against the piano, watched the two with idle curiosity. At least until Marcy let out a short, high-pitched scream. Then the music stopped completely and all attention was on her. She stood with her hands over her face, Vision mere inches from her.

"Someone's jumpy this morning," Clint teased. "Don't take it personally, Vision. Marcy's used to being the one that appears out of nowhere."

The strange, inhuman being looked a little perplexed. "My apologies, Agent Gray, I did not mean to startle you."

"It's... okay," Marcy mumbled. Her eyes remained tilted to the floor, where Vision's feet floated a few inches above it.

He followed her gaze and lowered himself so he was standing solid on the floor.

Steve, who had a protective hand on Marcy's shoulder, said, "I think we need to talk about the best way to enter a room and approach people." He pressed a finger to Vision's chest, gently pushing him to back up. "And about personal space."

"Very well. How much?" Vision asked.

"How much... what?"

"How much space should I allow a person as personal space?"

"How about arm's length?"

Vision looked down at Marcy. "Hers or mine?"

"Yours," Marcy answered first.

"What about Captain Rogers? He is not out of arm's reach."

"It's different with Steve. I've seen him naked."

The arm that was around her shoulder moved up to put the hand over her mouth. "You don't have to mention that," Steve muttered to her.

She pulled the hand away from her mouth. "I am going to brag about it for the rest of my life."

"What you are actually saying is familiarity allows for greater comfort in closer proximity," Vision said.

"It also breeds contempt," Clint said as he stood next to Vision. "But yeah, that, too."

Vision gave a nod to the archer, but it wasn't clear if he understood what Clint meant.

"So, here's where all our top-tier personnel are goofing around," came a sharp feminine voice. Maria Hill walked in, clipboard in her hand. She eyed Clint and Natasha and then settled her unimpressed gaze on Steve. "Drills started twenty minutes ago. Everyone keeps asking where you are, _Captain._ " She slapped the clipboard to his chest.

"I forgot we were doing that. Sorry, Agent Hill. I'll be right out there." He gave Marcy a quick kiss on the temple and hurried off after the irritated SHIELD agent.

Marcy was thinking about going out, too; maybe bringing James along. Vision, however, was still solidly in her way.

"If you have time, might I speak with you, Agent Gray?"

"Me?" she demanded with incredulity.

Vision nodded with a hint of amusement. "If you don't mind."

.

* * *

The weather outside was perfect for outdoor activity; not too warm, not too cold. Steve immediately took his place in charge of the SHIELD field agents they currently had on staff. Most had transferred from HQ, but there were a few new faces Steve did not know yet. All were seasoned agents. No newbies at the Avengers compound. Largely, Steve had scheduled this day so he could get to know everyone and their skill set, along with all the team members acquainting themselves with each other.

While that was going on, Marcy walked the parameter, Vision at her side. The fact that he was not walking, but floating to keep up with her made her feel a little weird, but she tried to ignore it. She wasn't going to ask Vision change his behavior to make herself more comfortable.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Marcy asked. She noticed from the field that Steve had glanced her way. He was keeping an eye on them. It made her feel a little better that the other Avengers were also still a bit wary of this strange being.

"Nothing too particular," Vision admitted, which surprised her. "You are just the one I haven't met yet."

"Uh... the one of what?"

"As JARVIS, I had an extensive file of you in the forefront of my memory banks, much like most of the other Avengers. I've met them, I've had conversations with them, but I had not yet conversed with you. I thought having a conversation with you might be... fun?" He said the word as if he wasn't sure if it was the right one to use. "Or at least informative."

"Why have a file on me? I'm not an Avenger."

"Your file began when you gained Mr. Stark's attention. I have extensive records as well as video files of your daily habits within the SHIELD Central building."

"Of course you do. And now that you are no longer JARVIS but... Vision, you still have these files in your head?"

"More or less I suppose. I believe the correct word for them would be 'memories' for the form I take now. I'm am still struggling with the correct terminology myself."

Marcy made a sound of acknowledgment, but didn't know what else to say to that. Vision was the one that wanted this conversation, she would let him say whatever it was that beings like him felt the need to say.

"You know, I still very much am JARVIS, more than I am anything else from what I was built from before, I think," Vision mused out loud. "I know what he knows. I have the urge to be of service as he was programmed to do."

Marcy found it interesting that Vision referred to Tony's old AI program as a he and not an it.

"However, there is one thing; one joyous, annoying thing that I have that JARVIS never did," Vision continued. "Curiosity. Yes, of all those forefront in my memory bank—memories—you are the one who is not an Avenger. And now I finally have the capacity to ask why. Why are you not part of the Avengers, Agent Gray?"

Marcy's mouth hung open for a bit, unprepared for the question. "I... suppose I'm just not the avenging type."

"That is a very glib response, agent; rather unsatisfactory."

"I take it the reason for that question is that you think I should be."

"There seem to be two major criteria for this rather exclusive membership. One, to be an individual of remarkable and useful skills. And two, to be a person of extraordinary character. In my opinion, you are both of these. So the next step seems obvious."

Marcy glanced down for a moment, a smile on her lips. "That is very kind of you to say. But there is a price to being an Avenger that I am just not willing to pay."

Vision actually paused for a moment before continuing to keep pace with her. Now he was even more curious for her answer. "And what would that be, Agent Gray?"

"When you put a name to something, it will eventually come to light. I knew this even when Fury's Avengers Initiative existed only on paper. It would not stay secret forever. The public at large would know of it, know of its members, soon enough and now we are here. All of you have been on TV, most more than a few times. All of you have the world's attention. They are clamoring to know who you are, where you live, what you're going to do next. Many will begin to ruminate on how they can control you; how they will make your power theirs. And when they have concocted their plans, they will come for you."

"I venture to suppose that would be very stupid of anyone to attack this compound if they thought they could come for us."

"They will come," Marcy insisted. "But not like that. Not anything so obvious. They will come in little ways: new laws, small checks and balances, vague contracts and accords. Very clever traps set out for those who stay in the limelight." Up ahead, they had rounded the parameter and were headed back to Steve and his training session. The other Avengers present had gathered there as well. "I plan to stay nameless and away from those traps. Somebody has to. Plus I don't ever want to be on TV."

Vision actually chuckled at that last statement. "You were nearly poetic in your fervent hope to remain anonymous. I do not know if what you say will actually happen, but I will respect your choice." By now, Vision wasn't just walking in his very robotic, graceless way, he was practically strolling as if he had a lifetime of casual practice. "I have enjoyed our frank discussion, Agent Gray. I do hope we have another one in the near future."

* * *

.

At the other side of the field, all agents had been stiff and respectful at the appearance of Captain Rogers. They quickly relaxed as Steve fell into his casual and inclusive way of interacting with his team. Though a skilled leader, a strict drill instructor he was not. In a matter of minutes, his tardiness to the day's training had been forgotten. Everyone was eager to greet him and to listen to his instructions. After signing off so Steve was sure to know everyone by name, various agents paired off for sparring so their captain could assess their skill levels.

Steve was very pleased with what he saw. He sure had a team of SHIELD's top notch agents on his hands. A glance to Clint and Natasha across the way and they nodded with agreement. Definitely no newbies here. At least, Natasha corrected mentally, not from SHIELD's end. She noticed Wanda had wandered out with them. She stood a bit apart from the crowd, unsure of what to do with herself, but wanting to watch.

Natasha strolled over to her. "Want to try?" she asked casually. "It would be good if you knew some self-defense."

Wanda held up a hand glowing with red energy. "This is my defense."

"And what if one day you didn't have it?" Natasha challenged. "What if it's suddenly gone? What if someone develops a way to take it away from you? Then what?"

Wanda had never considered the possibility before. It even scared her a little. It was true she was not born with these powers. If someone put them in, was it also possible that someone could take them out?

"I will consider this. Perhaps a time when there are not so many people watching."

Natasha nodded in understanding. "When you're ready, just let me know."

"Thank you, Natasha." She turned her gaze back to the group of sparring agents. Bucky was there, too. Standing a little behind Steve, also silently watching. He seemed to have felt her gaze on him for her looked her way and she immediately glanced in another direction.

Natasha caught the interaction. "You and Barnes, you two have something going on?"

She expected Wanda to immediately protest in that blushing way that girls did when they were caught red-handed in their new crushes. Wanda just turned her sharp gaze on the Black Widow and then looked out at the field.

"Sargent Barnes seems like a nice man, but I would not get close. There is something wrong with him. There are two of him inside his head. The one you see and another that sleeps. That one is dangerous if it should ever wake up.

Natasha stared, a little disturbed. Wanda suddenly decided she would rather go inside after all and turned for the building. Natasha watched her leave with a chill. Again she worried for her friends. She worried for Steve's heart. Physically, he could take care of himself should the Winter Soldier suddenly decide to flip his shit. But emotionally, she didn't know if Steve could survive it. For Marcy, Natasha genuinely worried that one day Sargent Barnes would kill her. She was becoming too trusting of him; too blind to remember that James Barnes had once been a ruthless killing machine and could so be again.

Silently, Natasha glared at the metal arm glinting in the sunlight. If you ever hurt them, she said to herself, I will kill you.

* * *

.

"Want to give it a try?" Steve suddenly asked of Bucky, motioning to the other agents. "Maybe you could teach them something."

Immediately, there were a few startled wide-eyed looks from the agents. Bucky immediately picked up that they would all rather he not challenge any of them.

"Nah, I'm good. I think I should stay out of it," he said with raised palms.

There seemed to be a collective sigh from the group.

Steve raised a brow in challenge. "How about you and me go one on one?"

A new voice suddenly cut into Bucky's response.

"Oh, hell no, Steve. Not until I get a piece of this one-armed punk ass," Sam demanded as he approached the group.

"Punk ass!" Bucky demanded, fists clenched.

And before Steve could weigh in on the situation, the two were already down on the grass fighting. Not actual skilled sparring like the others had been doing. This was little boys wrestling in the living room kind of fighting.

Steve sighed as he watched the two grab and kick gracelessly at each other. Maybe it was best just to let them go at it and get it out of their system.

At that same moment, Marcy and Vision had wandered up to the group and the former stopped next to Steve. "Aw, look Steve, your two friends are becoming friends."

"Or something like that," Steve mumbled.

"Why isn't she training?" one of the agents asked, looking at Marcy. "Doesn't she work for SHIELD, too?"

Steve looked at him, trying to remember all the things he had learned about this group that day. Williams. Agent Williams was his name. Smart, very skilled and quickly rising among the ranks. He was the youngest member of the team. Not exactly green, but he still ran his mouth like he was.

Certainly not about to be accused of playing favorites with his girlfriend, Steve motioned to Marcy. "How about it? Do you want to try?"

"Depends," Clint answered for her, talking loud from the other end of the group. He looked at Agent Williams. "You wanna go to the hospital today, kid?"

More than one protest came from the group of agents. The biggest protest of all came from Marcy herself.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you? You think I'm going to actively _try_ to hurt anybody here?"

"You don't know how to pull punches!" Clint accused. "You never did!" He suddenly changed the subject. "You know what I would actually like to see in a fight?" He motioned between Natasha and Marcy.

There was a definite sound of agreement from the male part of the group, to which both female agents glared at all parties, shutting them up.

"What? I genuinely want to know who would win," Clint insisted.

Agent Williams, who had looked progressively annoyed at Hawkeye's attempts at distraction, stepped forward. "No, I'll do it. I'll spar with her."

"In my jeans?" Marcy complained to the captain.

Steve just shrugged, actually enjoying this. He had confidence in Marcy's skills. "It seems only fair you spar at least once while you're here. You're not on vacation."

"Fine," she huffed, walking forward. To herself she muttered, "I did not wear the right bra for this."

The two squared up and a determined Agent Williams threw the first punch without notice. He half expected a protest of his unsportsmanlike conduct from his opponent, but Marcy merely dodged and punched back. Williams easily side-stepped it. Since Hawkeye accused her of not pulling punches, she was now hypersensitive to it. He was going to win easy.

Williams prepared a barrage of punches designed to put her in position for the final blow. He had never lost with this combo against an opponent of shorter height. But Marcy did not move where he expected her to. She instead walked into the punch, grabbing his wrist and jerking his fist to the side. Williams, surprised at the counter move, reflexively responded with a kick to get her out of his personal space. Marcy's reaction was so fast, he wasn't even sure what happened. One moment she had him by the wrist, then her whole body jerked with a twist and he was suddenly in the air.

Agent Williams was sent in a spin, rotating several times parallel with the ground before he landed on his face in the grass. Even Bucky and Sam stopped fighting as a "holy shit" came from the crowd. That might have been from Clint.

Marcy just leaned over her opponent, hands on her knees. "How's that wrist?"

Williams checked it. "Hurts a little, but I think it's okay."

She looked at Clint. "See? No broken bones. I can pull punches."

Even Steve was staring. That body spinning through the air was still stuck in his mind. That kind of force...

"Captain," Vision said at his side, "The amount of force required to make a body do that is more that what should be capable for a human of Agent Gray's size and weight."

"I know," he murmured, still a little stunned.

Everyone heard the statement, even a startled Marcy. She looked down Agent Williams still on the ground and grabbed his collar. With two hands she lifted the taller man off the ground, raised him above her head higher than his toes could reach, and then set him down.

"What...?" was all she could whisper as Williams scrambled away from her. She looked at her hands. How long had she been like this? She couldn't recall ever noticing that her strength was increasing. Did that just start today?

It was Clint who was suddenly in her space, grabbing her hand, placing their palms together. "Push against me."

Though she felt a little light-headed, Marcy pushed and felt Clint's strength push back with equal force. Then, she slowly pushed back harder and Clint could not hold it back.

"Cripes, she is stronger," he declared, shaking out his own hurting wrist.

Natasha was right next to him, doing her own inspection. "Clint, look at her eyes."

"Holy... what is that?"

"What? What's wrong with my eyes?" Marcy demanded.

Now Steve was moving into her space, his fear reflecting her own as he tried to cup her face to get a good look at what the others saw. If there was something wrong with her eyes, why hadn't he noticed all that day? Marcy was terrible at looking people in the face, that was why. This time was no different as she immediately pulled away from his hands. She was too afraid of what Steve would see before she saw the problem herself.

"I'm going inside," she announced before marching off to the building. It took all her self control not to sprint inside to find a mirror. She kept her pace brisk and proud until she reached the door and then jogged down the lengthy hallway when no one else could see her. She was around the corner before she heard the door open again. The first floor had a public bathroom and she ran into the women's side and inspected herself in the mirror.

Leaning in so close her breath touched the glass, Marcy could see the problem with her eyes in the reflection. Her irises looked like something straight out of science fiction. Normally dark brown, the little colored circles were splashed with contrasting light blue. It was as if someone had cut apart two different eyes and stitched pieces of both seamlessly back together. Her weird eyes, her sudden strength; was this the beginning of Dr. Steadman's mystery serum starting to take hold?

She suddenly couldn't breathe. Her entire chest felt constricted by tight ropes. What was this thing? What was it going to eventually do to her? Marcy wished she had her medication. It had been weeks since her last panic attack, she had stopped carrying it around. Now her heart felt like it was practically vibrating, making her entire chest hurt.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the reflection before her. "Calm down, Marcy, you're alright. You're alright. You're alright," she kept repeating in a whisper. "You're not even hurt. Stop being a baby about this."

But she knew it wasn't the here and now she feared. She would have to go into SHIELD and report this change. Their scientists would immediately want to poke and prod her, stick her with needles. _Cut pieces out of her._ Bruce wouldn't even be there this time. She thought she was going to faint.

"Marcy?" Natasha stepped into the bathroom. "You okay in here?"

She immediately straightened and schooled herself, despite the pounding in her chest. "Yeah, I just wanted to see what you were looking at. I was worried you guys saw my eyes rotting in my head or something." She gave a forced laugh. "But they're just... turning blue I guess?"

"I guess," Natasha agreed carefully.

Marcy looked at herself in the mirror again. "Blue's not a bad color, right? Most people would want blue eyes."

"You'd look good with blue eyes," Natasha encouraged. "Very striking."

There was extra motion in the reflection and Marcy turned to see Steve walk in. "Uh, this is the ladies bathroom."

He only paused to confirm that they were the only three people there and continued to approach her, cupping her face again. His thumbs slid over her cheekbones as he inspected her eyes. Marcy tried not to fidget under the most direct, intense gaze he had ever given her. She felt him relax when all he saw was the discoloration of her irises as well.

"We'll figure it out," he said in a voice meant to sooth. His hand slid down to press against the flat part of her breast bone. He could feel her heart practically trying to break through."Breathe," he whispered to her. "It's going to be okay."

Marcy hated that he knew she was struggling. She didn't like being coddled; she liked to work through it under her own strength of character. Even knowing she could get a big, warm hug from the most amazing man alive, she refused to reward herself before she had conquered this attack.

He pressed her hand to his chest, over his heart. "Feel mine. Breathe with me."

She closed her eyes, breathing in for three, hold for three, out for three. A tiny bit of tightness left her. "You're babying me," she accused, eyes still closed.

"Yes, well, you give me so few opportunities to do so. I must take what I can get." He kissed her forehead, hands still on her. "Do you want to go home?"

She let out another heavy breath. Having Steve trying to take care of her made her feel better, but she did not want to continue this in the public bathroom.

"No, I want you to be here as long as you need to take care of your responsibilities. When you're done, we can all go home." She liked referring to her house as the place where the three of them called home. If Steve never slept in this compound again, she would be most satisfied with her life.

Steve agreed with that plan. He said she could make herself at home in his quarters if she liked while he continued with his duties. Marcy liked that just fine, feeling unfit to be around anyone else now. She plopped on the streamlined couch and turned on the TV, not really watching anything in particular.

Several minutes later, Bucky entered the room and joined her. His knees and elbows now sported grass stains and his hair was a mess, but he looked to be in good spirits.

"You don't have to wait in here with me," she told him. "If you're having fun, you can go back out there."

He casually leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "Nah, I like it here with you."

"I don't need company. I'm fine by myself."

He glanced at her with a smirk. Steve's girl was a hard case for sure. She was always so determined to do things herself. He should have found it annoying, but with her, it was somehow charming. "Same. I'll just be by myself with you, Dollface."

Marcy wrinkled her nose at him."No."

He paused for a moment, confused. "...No?"

"No 'Dollface'. It falls too easily off your tongue. Like you've used that word on every girl you've ever met."

Bucky thought about it. He probably had. A _lot_ of girls.

"I think I've earned a little higher status than every random girl you've met," Marcy ventured with a raised brow.

He gave her a side-ways smile that he had also probably used on a few girls. It was very cute. "You're probably right. You're probably right."

* * *

.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised she doesn't like that name," Steve said later as he put on a clean shirt. He and Bucky were in his quarters. Marcy was out in the main area talking with Natasha who was determined to get her and Wanda on more familiar terms.

"Girls love being called Dollface. It's never failed me before. Marcy's just a strange one."

"She's got a chip on her shoulder about how she looks." Or about men being attracted to her in general, Steve thought to herself. "She wouldn't be into nicknames referring to her looks."

"I don't get why. Girls like being told you think they're pretty, don't they? I mean, she's not the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen, but she's cute. Especially when she gives you that kind of quirky-mouthed smile..."

"I know."

"I'll have to think of something else."

"Or maybe _not_ try to come up with cute pet names for my girlfriend," Steve offered as he picked up his duffel. He was packed and ready for another night at Marcy's house. Another night of trying to get Bucky on a good sleep schedule where he received enough rest but wasn't still drugged the next morning.

Bucky gave a helpless shrug. "I live and sleep at her house, I feel like a pet name is in order."

Steve shook his head at his friend and carried his bag past him for the door. Bucky followed after with a smirk on his face.

* * *

.

"Steve. Steve!"

The hiss of Marcy's urgent voice shook him from sleep, his soldier's instincts instantly kicking in. Steve was sleeping on his stomach, face buried in Marcy's neck, an arm draped over her. As she hit him on the shoulder to awaken him, Steve rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. It was still dark in the room, no sign of the sun outside. But in the shadow of night, Steve was horrified to see a figure standing in the bedroom.

He quickly flipped on the bedside lamp to illuminate their intruder, and sighed with relief at the familiar form.

"Oh, Bucky. Jeeze!" Steve flopped back on the pillow, his heart starting to slow. The relief of it only being his friend was soon replaced with concern by this strange scenario. Yes, it was only Bucky in their bedroom but... he wasn't even looking at them. He stood stalk still before the foot of the bed, his back to them.

"Uh, Buck? What are you doing?"

Without a word, Bucky stood over Marcy's dresser and pulled open the first drawer.

"Bucky!"

Still no response.

Marcy, who had been quietly observing, said, "I think he's... sleepwalking."

Bucky closed the first drawer and then opened the second.

"James. James, wake up." Marcy called to him. When he didn't respond, she began to get out of bed.

"No." Steve held up a hand to stop her. "Stay here. We don't know how he's going to react."

Marcy had a puzzled look on her face, like it would have never occurred to her that Bucky had the potential to be dangerous. Still, she stayed in bed as Steve stood and approached Bucky's oblivious form.

"Bucky," he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Bucky's elbow instantly shot back toward him. Steve caught it before he was hit in the face. He glanced to Marcy's wide eyes, glad he told her to stay away. He turned Bucky around by the shoulders and shook him. "Buck. Wake up."

After a few good shakes, Bucky was pulled from his dreams and blinked in confusion in the light. "Steve?" He glanced around and his startled face almost looked afraid when he realized he was standing in Marcy's room. His gaze landed on her similarly confused face as she kept the covers pulled around her.

"You were sleepwalking," Steve said, pulling Bucky's attention back to him. "Go back to bed."

A little perplexed, Bucky obeyed and left the room, mumbling about tranquilizers as he went. Steve returned to bed without a word and snuggled back in, his arm draped over Marcy's body where they both fell asleep once more.

Steve wasn't sure how long it had been, but he awoke on his own this time, listening to the sounds of movement in the darkness. Flipping on the lamp, there was Bucky same as before, silently opening and closing the doors on the dresser. He noticed Marcy stir as he once again got out of bed and approached his sleeping friend.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" he asked tiredly.

Bucky responded in a mumble, a mixture of Russian and English. Steve caught the word "papers."

It was too late for this nonsense. Again he grabbed Bucky's shoulders and shook him. "Come on, Buck. You can't keep doing this."

Bucky allowed himself to be bonelessly jerked around, but this time he did not wake up. He remained in a lethargic stupor no matter how Steve tried to break him out of it.

"Great," he muttered.

"What do you want to do?" Marcy asked from the bed.

He sighed. "We might have to come up with some different arrangements for tonight."


	4. Chapter 4: All These Things I've Done

.

 _When there's nowhere else to run_

 _Is there room for one more son?_

 _These changes ain't changing me  
The cold-hearted boy I used to be _

_Over and in, last call for sin_

 _While everyone's lost, the battle is won_

 _With all these things that I've done._

-The Killers, "All These Things That I've Done"

 **All Of Me**

 **Chapter Four: All These Things I've Done**

Bucky awoke normally, and he was grateful it wasn't the same heavily-drugged awakening he had the morning before. In fact, this morning, he felt rather warm and peaceful. Safe. It reminded him of those very rare pleasant mornings he craved and it was a relief to know they could actually happen on their own.

Wait.

Bucky then realized he actually wasn't alone in bed. He wasn't even in _his_ bed. He lay in Marcy's large, comfortable bed with only Steve under the covers with him. The blond man was draped over him, an arm stretched across Bucky's torso, Steve's face in his shoulder. Bucky had no recollection of how he got there. What the hell happened last night?

Thoroughly confused, Bucky attempted to get up, but that strong arm over his chest held him down. Bucky tried again and Steve pushed him back down again. Irritated, Bucky glanced at the other man. Was he even awake? Steve's eyes were still closed.

"No," Steve then said in a voice thick with sleep. "Down."

"Steve, what?" was all he could think to say.

"You were sleepwalking," Steve mumbled into his shoulder. "You wouldn't wake up and you kept getting out of bed so I had to babysit you. You kept me up all night, you jerk."

"Where's Marcy?"

"She slept in your bed to be safe."

Bucky frowned. Marcy slept in the guest room alone while her two protectors, should anything happen, slept at the back of the house. That didn't sound right. Then a worrying thought hit him. "I didn't do anything that put you or her in danger, did I? Did I grab any weapons?"

Steve yawned, eyes still closed. "No. You just kept looking in drawers, mumbling something about papers."

"Papers..." Bucky repeated, staring at the ceiling. He tried to recall if he had dreamed anything specific, but it was all nothing but blackness. He tried to get up again and that strong, heavy arm continued to hold him down. "What are you doing? We're both awake. Let me up."

To his irritation, Steve just pulled in tighter. "No. This is your punishment. Now let me sleep."

"You're such a weirdo," Bucky murmured, but remained where he was, silently watching the ceiling.

After a while, Bucky lifted his head when he felt a new weight on the mattress. Marcy sat at the foot of the bed, legs crossed and grinning at them.

"You two are adorable."

Bucky smirked at her. "Just don't tell anyone."

"Oh, I already snuck in earlier and took a picture of you guys with my phone."

"What is it with the two of you taking pictures of me sleeping? You're both creepy."

She grinned at him. "So, how did you sleep?"

"Pretty good, actually. Despite the fact that I apparently walked around all night long."

"And how do you feel this morning? Still drugged?"

"Not bad at all. This stubborn punk just won't let me up. Can you help me?"

"I don't know, let's see." Marcy crawled toward them on the bed. She picked up Steve's arm with no problem, but then immediately climbed under the covers between them. Her arm joined Steve's over Bucky's torso, holding him down. "Nope, sorry, couldn't help you."

"Are you guys serious?" Bucky demanded.

"Punishment," Steve reminded.

"Come on, this is nice," Marcy insisted. "It's like an extended group hug."

Bucky just lay there frowning. For several minutes he frowned and lay there. Then, Steve's breathing turned heavy and slow as he actually fell asleep. Marcy lifted Steve's lifeless arm from Bucky's chest.

"Get out while you can," she whispered with amusement.

There was a brief moment where Bucky almost didn't want to because he had grown comfortable in bed, but it wasn't enough to keep him there. He escaped as he was allowed.

* * *

.

Later that morning, the three of them stepped out of the car and onto the parking lot in front of SHIELD headquarters. Bucky and Marcy hesitated as they looked up at the building, but Steve, always one to face difficult business head on, marched them both right in. Once greeted by SHIELD staff, however, even Captain America hesitated.

Dr. Adams agreed to talk with Bucky for a few moments if he came in right then before the next appointment. On the other hand, the scientific team had already caught wind of Marcy's new development and were eager to begin their inspection. Steve wanted to keep Marcy company so she would feel safe, but he had also promised himself he would be there for any of Bucky's appointments he was allowed to attend.

Magically, a solution to his problems also appeared in the building around the same time. This solution came in the form of Tony Stark.

"Hey, it's Cap and Co," the billionaire greeted as he approached them.

"Tony," Steve replied with suspicion. It was very strange to see Tony in the HQ building. He had no reason to go there since the Avengers all moved to the compound and Bruce was now gone. "You have some SHIELD business today?"

As usual, Tony fidgeted, his gaze never staying in one spot when he was being grilled on his motives. "Not particularly. I received a some information from Vision about Agent Gray suddenly exhibiting some... super soldier type qualities shall we say? I was curious and in the neighborhood, so..." He looked to Marcy. "Is it true you lifted some guy right off the ground?"

"It's true," she sighed.

"Could you lift me?" Tony wondered.

She eyed his lean form up and down. "Probably."

"Could you lift... Steve?"

"I don't know. Let's find out."

Before Steve could decide how he felt about this, Marcy was already picking him up bridal style. He flailed a bit gracelessly at the unfamiliar sensation of being lifted with arms not really long enough to comfortably reach around his larger size. He awkwardly flung his arms around Marcy's neck, trying not to do anything that would hurt her.

"You're okay, Steve, I've got you," she said with great amusement.

"Looking a little flush there, Cap," Tony noticed with even greater amusement. "Do you... are you getting all hot and bothered by this? You like having a girl carry you?"

His face went even more red. "I... I don't know."

Tony laughed. "Alright, put him down before something happens that makes us all embarrassed."

"If I must," Marcy said regretfully, but with a huge grin.

Steve looked immediately relieved to be on his own feet again, though his face was still hot and red. Bucky's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter which earned him a sharp look.

"So, I assume you'll be splitting off now," Tony then said. "I was thinking you, Steve, would go with your one true soulmate, and since I'm more on the science side of things, I'll accompany..." he tipped both index fingers in Marcy's direction. "You know, just to help translate the technical jargon and keep an eye on where those nosy scientists put their hands."

In truth, before Bruce had disappeared, he had mentioned to Tony how anxious Marcy still was around SHIELD's troupe of white coats. Having Bruce there while they took samples and ran tests helped her feel more confident that no one was going to sneak in more liberties to her DNA than she was ready to give. Without Bruce, Tony supposed, he would have to take up the slack.

Steve, for his part, had looked skyward at the soulmate dig, but quickly changed his expression.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "I do what I can."

* * *

.

"So, you don't remember anything, any sort of dream from the night before?" Dr. Adams repeated with curiosity after Steve and Bucky had relayed the previous night's events.

"It's the same as every night," Bucky confirmed. "I know I dreamed, I can feel it lingering when I wake up. But I can't remember any of it."

"And these 'papers', you have no idea what those are."

Bucky shook his head and shrugged.

Dr. Adams looked thoughtful for a while. "Perhaps we could try a little recovered-memory therapy. We don't have time to do a whole session, but perhaps a little peek into what's going on might help us figure out where to go from here. Would you be okay with that, Bucky?"

"Depends on what it is. I'm not familiar with the term."

"I'm going to attempt to put you in a very light state of hypnosis and we'll see if we can tap into your subconscious."

"Is that a thing you can actually do to people?" Steve asked with skepticism.

"It doesn't work on everyone. But we've got twenty minutes, might as well try it."

Bucky looked a little hesitant, but agreed to give it a go. Steve removed himself from the couch so Bucky could lay down and set himself in a side chair to silently observe. He understood what hypnotism was, but didn't necessarily believe in it. And he greatly doubted the doctor could put Bucky into any kind of hypnotic state.

Yet as Dr. Adams talked to him in a calm, low voice, Bucky became still and it was only a few minutes until he was nearly non-responsive.

"He's under." Dr. Adams announced.

"So fast?" Steve said, still not quite believing.

"I suspected it would be easy. His lengthy conditioning from Hydra has unfortunately made Sargent Barnes very susceptible to suggestion.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's fine. He's not in very deep. Just enough for us to possibly scratch a little below the surface." The doctor turned his attention to his patient. "Bucky, are you with me?"

"Yes," came the calm, emotionless response.

"Will you come on a journey with me? We are going back to the place you were last night. That place where you were looking for the papers. Can you go there with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you there now?"

"Yes."

"And where are you?"

"In... a house."

Dr. Adams wrote on the notepad propped up on his knee. "Tell me about the house."

"It's a big house. Three stories. Many rooms."

"This is a house? Where people live? Not a public building?"

"Yes. There are bedrooms. An office."

"Are there people in the house?"

Bucky was silent.

"Bucky, are there people in the house?"

"Bodies," he said after a while.

Dr. Adams glanced up when Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Is anyone else alive in the house?"

Bucky furrowed his brows, his head turning from side to side as if he were looking around. "I don't know."

"Can you hear anything?"

"Music?"

"Yes."

"From the radio or a CD? Or... what do kids listen to music on today? Their phones?"

"A tape player," Bucky said. "Somewhere up the hall."

Dr. Adams made more notes. "Tell me about the papers. Are you looking for them?"

"I am supposed to bring them back."

"What are the papers? Letters? Documents?"

"Big papers. Plans. Schematics."

"Schematics for what?"

Bucky suddenly jerked his head to the side as if he heard something. "I'm not alone. Someone's here."

"Who, Bucky? Who is in the house with you?"

He jerked again and then suddenly sat up, wide-eyed and fully awake. Dr. Adams was clearly surprised Bucky broke from the trance on his own. Steve was immediately on his feet. Two strides and he was at his friend's side, a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, looking him in the face.

Bucky blinked at his blue eyes and found Steve was standing a little on the close side. He leaned back. "Yeah, fine." He glanced to Dr. Adams, all his sudden distress completely gone. "So, did I remember anything?"

* * *

.

As expected, all those in the science department had many different tests ready to go when Marcy stepped in. Tony just wandered around the place making a thorough pest of himself while Marcy went through a full physical before going into strength testing where they did indeed confirm she was exhibiting a sort of super soldier-like strength, though still not as strong as Captain America or even the Winter Soldier. Marcy poked at her own muscles which were, she had to admit, a bit thicker and firmer than they usually were. Though she worked out several times a week, it was very seldom by lifting weights so she supposed it was possible for her to gain strength without knowing. Especially if she had gained the strength in a short amount of time. It seemed implausible, yet made the most sense to her. But Dr. Steadman's mystery serum was introduced to her system several weeks ago. Why was it only now that she began to see changes in her body?

The other scientists were asking that, too. They took pictures of her eyes, which were even more blue than the day before. They took hair and nail samples, which Marcy tolerated. She even allowed for them to take two vials of blood. Then one of the clinicians held up a very thick needle and said she wanted to take a deep tissue sample.

Tony, who had been goofing around the place the entire time, suddenly showed up out of nowhere before Marcy could even respond.

"Uh, no. She's not doing that. You've got plenty to work with already. Just have her pee in a cup and we'll be off."

"No," Marcy said raising a hand. Then softer again, "No. I... I'm going to do this."

"You sure, Marceline?"

She smirked. "Yes, _Antonio_ , I'm going to do it." She added with a new determination. "I don't let my fears control me." She looked at the clinician. "One sample."

It was absolutely not a pleasant feeling. Even though they added a bit of numbing agent, it still hurt when they dug in deep to get several layers of tissue from the arm that didn't bear a faint rectangular scar. Her arm instantly bled afterward and she was given a larger than normal band-aid to staunch the bleeding.

"Alright," announced the lab supervisor as he came in. "We've got enough to work with, we'll let you know if we find any results of note."

"That's it?" Tony demanded. "All that and you're just kicking us out? Don't you have some machine where you can run all this through and give us answers right now? If not, who do I write the check to to get one in here?"

Clearly irritated, the lab supervisor removed his glasses, quickly wiped them, and then replaced them on his nose. "Mr. Stark, we're on unprecedented ground. All of this is mad scientist territory. There are no studies or research to compare results with. Bruce Banner was the closest thing we had to an expert in this field and he's in the wind. I'm afraid waiting until there is more information is all you can do."

"It's fine," Marcy said as she slid off the exam table. "Waiting is all I have done for several weeks. I can wait more. Come on, Tony."

Stark, however, did not move as he rubbed the narrow line of facial hair that lined his jaw. "If Banner is the number one expert, then who would be number two?" he mused.

"It would be nice to have someone in a similar field around," the super agreed.

The room went into thoughtful silence for a moment.

"I have a person in mind if SHIELD needs someone," Marcy spoke up. "She's a Harvard graduate with a double masters in cellular biology and biochemistry. And she's done work with Bruce Banner. Elizabeth Ross?"

The supervisor was genuinely intrigued. He clearly had not heard of her. Tony, wondering if he understood exactly who she was referring to, gave Marcy a surreptitious look. Marcy played innocent.

"I'll look into it and see if we can get her in to consult on your results."

"Then I guess we'll be in touch," Tony announced, putting a hand on the small of Marcy's back to escort her out. They left before anyone became suspicious of the sudden air of conspiracy about them.

* * *

.

Both teams seemed to be done around the same time and met in the hallway on their way to find each other.

"Here's your girl, Cap," Tony said, slapping Marcy on the back. "Still in one piece and everything."

Steve looked pointedly at the band-aid on her arm. "Nearly in one piece."

"Hey, she wanted to do it, I said no."

Before Steve could respond, his cell rang and he dug it out of his pocket and checked the screen. "It's Natasha. I'm going to take this real quick." Natasha usually texted if she wanted to chat about nonsense. If she was calling, that usually meant it was something important. He turned and walked down the hall with a "Hey Natasha, what's up?"

"How was the session?" Marcy asked Bucky.

He shrugged. He didn't really remember much of it. "The Doc says maybe the sleepwalking is me just getting used to the medication. It might be a fluke. We'll find out tonight, I guess."

Marcy gave her own kind of shrug with an accepting smile. "Every day is a new adventure."

* * *

.

Down the hall, Steve had stiffened when he heard the news from Natasha. "Rumlow? He's in Lagos? Are you sure he's still alive?"

"According to our intelligence, yes," the female voice replied on the other end. "You know Hydra, their top guys have a way of not staying dead. I don't know what they did to him, but I've heard they juiced him up all to hell somehow. He goes by the alias 'Crossbones' now. We're packing up to go immediately. Word on the street is Rumlow's been big into the terrorism game. We're not sure what his plan is yet. But where there's smoke-"

"There's fire," Steve finished.

"Right. And Rumlow's been all smoke lately. Clint's gone, he was already sent out on something else earlier. Sam's in. I'm also taking Maximoff. She needs the experience."

"Wait. Are you leaving Vision alone at the compound with the other agents?"

"Have to. Can't take him with us. He doesn't exactly blend in. Plus, it will be fun watching the security footage when we get back. I told him to make friends while we're gone."

Steve tried to cover a laugh. "Okay. I'll drive up to meet you right now."

"No time. You're an hour away. I've got your travel bag and your gear. We'll pick you up in the jet. Shall we bring Marcy and Bucky, too?"

Steve glanced down to the opposite end of the hall where the others were talking. Bucky wasn't cleared to go back on duty. Not until he finished his sessions with Adams. And Steve didn't want Marcy to go either, not when her personal health was unpredictable at the moment. "No, I think it's just going to be me. I'm going to let them know I'm leaving and then I'll wait for you outside."

There was a pause on the other end. Steve had a sense that Natasha did not like what he said, though he wasn't sure why. All Natasha said in response is "Okay, we'll be there in a few."

* * *

.

It was weird not having Steve around at the house that night. Weirder than the first time. Then, Bucky knew Steve was just at the compound and easy to reach. This time, he was in Nigeria. There would be no timely way to get him if something were to happen. Bucky hated that this was even something that worried him. He hated feeling dependent on Steve. Before, after he had broken Hydra's hold on his mind, when he wandered in his dreamless state of perpetual blankness, he didn't need anyone and he was fine. The fact that he now felt uncomfortable with Steve so far away pissed him off.

That night, as usual, he went jogging in the dark to pound the pavement and order his thoughts. There was a rumble of storm clouds in the distance, but that didn't stop him from running for miles out, and then running back. People waved at him now and then. He was becoming a familiar sight in the nearby neighborhoods.

Bucky nodded when he was acknowledged, but his thoughts were far off. Dr. Adams had relayed everything Bucky had said while in his trance. None of it sounded familiar and that too was frustrating. The large house containing multiple people, possibly even more than one family had Adams the most intrigued. He said it was possible that what he dreamed was just that, a dream, a message from his subconscious and not an actual event that happened. Or, he postulated it could be a mesh of several events all crammed into one scenario due to his scrambled memories.

Bucky couldn't make heads or tails of it either way and was no closer to finding answers when he walked up Marcy's front porch, panting and sweaty. The first few raindrops were starting to fall as he stepped inside. Just in time before the storm.

Inside, the cat greeted him with eager sounds and rubbed himself against Bucky's leg. Marcy was nowhere in the house. He found her in the backyard, standing in the grass barefoot, illuminated by the dim porch light. Bucky opened the sliding door, but Marcy didn't seem to hear him. Her back was to the house and she was swaying to music only she could hear. When her head turned, Bucky noticed the white buds in her ears. She really was listening to music only she could hear.

He leaned against the door frame as he watched her. She turned to face him once, but her eyes were closed so she still had no idea he was there. Bucky had never met a woman like Marcy Gray; a woman who was a little bit of everything. She was hard and soft, dangerous and sweet. So strange and yet made so much sense to him. She impressed him when Steve informed her he had to leave immediately for a mission and she merely told him to stay safe. No pouting because he left her, no moping because her boyfriend was gone. Just dancing in the dark among the crickets and the lightning bugs. Marcy was more comfortable than he was at being alone these days.

Earnest rain drops began to fall, fat and wet. She stopped and raised her head to the sky, eyes still closed. Was she seriously not coming in?

"Hey Marce. Marcy," he called in a sharp voice.

She seemed to hear him as she turned and pulled one bud out of her ear.

He nodded to the sky. "It's raining."

"I know." She grinned. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Amazing? It's just rain. It happens all the time."

"Water is falling from _the sky_ , James Barnes. The sky! How is that not amazing?"

"Does that mean you're not coming in?"

The rain pelted harder and Marcy extended her arms as the water pinged off her skin. "I am experiencing the rain and the rain is experiencing me!"

It sounded like she was quoting something. Bucky barked out a laugh and it felt good as it came out of his throat. She gave him a seductive, two-handed come-hither motion and he stepped off the porch and joined her in the downpour.

"See? It's fun!" She held out her arms again and slowly spun around.

Bucky looked up, blinking as the rain fell on his face. There was something kind of nice about it. It dampened his hair and ran down his neck. He glanced to Marcy, her odd colored eyes sparkling by the porch light. The water made her hair cling to her forehead and neck, and her clothes wrap tightly around her curves. Her smile was brilliant and then serene as she too looked up at the sky, eyes closed.

For a moment, his heart tumbled a little.

There was a loud snap of thunder and then rain suddenly increased, dropping heavy sheets of water and finally chasing the two inside. Even though she was also soaking wet, a barefoot Marcy ordered Bucky to remain on the linoleum of the dining room while she went to the hall closet. She returned with a towel and laughed again at how dripping wet he was. Instead of giving him the towel, she wiped his forehead and neck with a grin.

"Mad at me for getting you wet?"

"Never," he whispered. They were in each others' space, feeling their energies brush against one another.

Marcy draped the towel around his neck. "I'm glad you're here. It's nice having someone at home with me."

Maybe Bucky was wrong. Maybe Marcy felt Steve's absence more than she let on.

* * *

.

After a shower, Bucky checked his phone as he plopped on the bed. Dippy was there napping, rolled on his back and paws in the air. The rain was still going hard and heavy outside.

There was a text from Steve on his phone. Steve was good at texting. He liked communication and he liked the ease of staying in touch that the modern phone provided. Bucky was terrible at replies. The phone screens did not like his metal thumb which made texting more of a chore. He was trying to be better because he knew it irritated Steve with how seldom he would reply back.

The text read: _I hope everything works out tonight. Let me know what happens._

Bucky hit reply and then sat for a long time staring at the screen. Eventually, his fingers moved as a thought came to him.

 _It's raining hard over here. Now I understand what you meant when you said you first fell for Marcy when you saw her standing in the rain._

His thumb hovered over the Send button.

No. What was he thinking? He deleted the message and then typed: _I'll be fine. You watch your back and worry about yourself, stupid._

He hit send and then let his head fall back with a thunk on the headboard. Closing his eyes, he let out a pained sigh. For the first time, he was ready to take his medication and drop into a deep sleep.

* * *

.

The next few days passed normally without Steve. Marcy went to HQ every day to keep busy with more office related SHIELD matters. Bucky stayed home the first day. On the second, he went with her and spent his time loitering around the building and then they both spent a couple hours in the gym.

Bucky stole glances at Marcy as she used different machines. He had not formed any sort of opinion yet on her newly increased strength. She did look a little more muscular, but the weight she was pushing on the machines didn't seem all that impressive for her size. Marcy's face relayed she felt much the same way. Maybe it was just hitting the gym more with him and Steve that made her that way. Maybe it had nothing to do with any sort of serum at all.

Except for the eye thing. Bucky knew that had actually scared Steve a little though he refused to ever let on to Marcy. It worried Bucky a bit, too. So he kept an eye on her. But everything remained normal.

Even Bucky's sleep schedule became downright routine. There were no more instances of sleepwalking and he was getting a good amount of rest. Bucky was becoming very optimistic about this. Maybe he would already have it all figured out by the time Steve returned home.

Steve and his team had been gone for nearly five days when early that morning, the front door to Marcy's home opened.

Bucky was at the table. He stiffened at the unexpected sound of someone walking in, but then hoped it was Steve returning home.

"Hey Marcy, it's me," called a male voice that wasn't Steve. "I brought a guest."

Clint walked into the dining area followed, surprisingly, by Vision who looked extremely out of place in such a domestic setting.

"Hey, D-List," Clint greeted when he saw Bucky at the table. "Still blacklisted from the field?"

"For now. I have an appointment today. We'll see if I pass."

"Oh hey, you're back," Marcy greeted as she walked in.

"Just got in last night," Clint confirmed. "Vision was pretty much the only one at the compound so I thought I'd come over for breakfast and bring him along."

Marcy immediately went to the fridge to get more food. Since she had two super soldiers in her life with healthy appetites, she had been better at keeping the kitchen well stocked.

"Why was no one else there?"

"I assume it is because of me," Vision offered. "Without the other Avenger team members to act as a buffer, I made most of the staff uncomfortable. They began coming up with reasons not to be around."

Marcy glanced his way, feeling sorry. Vision, however, appeared completely indifferent, as if self-pity never occurred to him.

"I'm sorry if this is an ignorant question, but... do you eat?"

"I do not need to eat, but I can," Vision responded with pragmatism.

"Okay so... are you going to eat?"

Vision thought about it for a moment. "Which would be the more polite response?"

Clint leaned toward him. "When someone offers you food, it's always polite to accept."

"Except here," Marcy insisted. "You may eat or not eat, that is completely up to you. I don't mind either way."

Now Vision looked rather perplexed and took a moment more to think about it. "I am not sure, then. I have never had to make a decision where either has zero consequences."

"That's when you go with personal preference," Marcy offered. "Would you rather eat or not eat?"

Before he could decide, Clint's phone buzzed at him. He pulled it out of his pocket and then cursed under his breath. He walked directly into the living room without explanation and turned on the TV. The other three people in the house joined him as he flipped through channels until he found what he was looking for.

The voice of a female anchor was speaking as footage of a burning building showed on screen. The words "Avengers in Lagos leaves multiple casualties" scrolled across the bottom.

"Those counted among the dead are eleven Wakandans here in Lagos on an outreach mission," the anchor's voice said. The footage cut to a shot of Captain America, two children in his arms, leading a family out of the building. Falcon came out second with an elderly woman in his arms and several other tenants close behind him. "First responders and the Avengers team were immediately on site to help evacuate the building. Most of the lower levels have been safely evacuated, but first responders are still trying to reach the upper floors where the building is still heavily on fire."

"What the hell happened?" Clint wondered out loud as he watched.

As if the anchor heard, the video feed cut to her as she said, "I have word that footage of the earlier explosion has been released online. We have a copy to play for you now."

The screen changed again to what was clearly a shaky video taken on someone's cell phone. The two people being filmed were a distance away, but it was clearly Captain America fighting a larger man full of weapons and heavy gear. A black helmet covered his entire face, but the group watching knew it had to be Brock Rumlow, the man the Avengers team had shipped out to apprehend.

Captain America managed to get the upper hand, sending his opponent to his knees. The two seemed to have a verbal exchange. The person filming moved closer, but was still not close enough to pick up the words on their device. Then, Rumlow suddenly had something in his hand. There was an explosion, barely contained at the last second as a red mist ensconced Rumlow and the inferno in a protective bubble. The sphere of fire shot upward out of the view of the camera. Then, the ground shook from the explosion. The person filming looked up to where the previously shown building was now on fire, one of its upper floors completely up in flame.

Clint swore again as Bucky dropped onto the couch, his eyes still glued to the TV.

"According to sources," the anchor's voice then spoke, "the man with the explosive device was Brock Rumlow, who had a history of selling weapons to various terrorist groups. He and several other men were engaged by the Avengers while stealing an as of yet unidentified item from the Institute For Infectious Disease. Right now it is too soon to tell exactly what happened here."

Marcy immediately retrieved her phone from the kitchen and dialed Steve's number. She wandered back into the living room as it rang until the voicemail picked up. Clint seemed to be doing the same thing and both hung up around the same time.

"Steve's not picking up."

"Neither is Natasha."

"They're probably still on site."

"Probably will be for a while," Clint agreed. "They're going to have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

.

The Lagos incident was all that was covered on every news outlet that day, both on television and online. After the building was fully evacuated, after all the dead and wounded were removed and counted, then came the questions. The Avengers were smart. The only questions they answered were to the authorities and first responders as to what happened and why they were in the country. To the rest of the world, it was all up for debate and speculation.

And debate and speculate they did. Everyone had an opinion on why the Avengers were there and what they were doing. Even if they should have done it in the first place and whether or not they should be allowed to leave Nigeria or be taken into custody. Of course, the Sokovia incident was brought up as well as everyone with an opinion weighed in on what they thought of the Avengers now and their actions. The entire world seemed to have forgotten only a few years earlier they had been singing praises after the alien invasion in New York.

Now, there was a cautious skepticism, if not outright fear. Now the world questioned the actions of their saviors as they amassed more members with greater powers. Some people still supported their beloved heroes whole-heartedly, but the louder voice was that of those calling for answers, calling for some sort of accountability that they felt the Avengers were not adhering to. As the day went on, many outlets were echoing each other, wanting a public statement on the incident. And wanting a public roster of who exactly were in the Avengers and a full disclosure of what they could do.

Even after Clint and Vision went back to the compound, Marcy watched it all until Bucky made her turn it off and stop obsessing over something she had no control over.

"It will blow over eventually and everyone will move on," he told her. She sighed and tried to find something else to distract her.

There still had not been any word from Steve or anyone else. Even further into the day, no response. Marcy had to force herself not to call Steve again. It's not like Steve kept his personal cell on him when running around fighting villains as Captain America. When he had time to get to his phone, he would see that she had called and he would respond. Steve was very good at that. Marcy just had to be patient. Though she also caught Bucky glancing at his phone a few times, too. They were both doing their best trying to wait out the silence.

Luckily, they both had something to keep them busy as they drove back to SHIELD HQ. Bucky had an appointment that was actually scheduled this time with Dr. Adams. Marcy walked with him to the psychiatrist's office and asked if they would like her to stay since Steve was not there.

"I think we'll be fine on our own this time," Dr. Adams said. "I would have asked Captain Rogers to step out as well. This is going to be a very deep session and I think an extra person in the room would just be a distraction."

Marcy looked at Bucky who just smiled at her in confirmation.

"Okay. How long do you think you'll be?"

"An hour at least. Possibly two."

"I'll just call you when we're finished," Bucky promised.

Marcy told them she planned to stay around HQ until they were done. Then she headed to the "science floor" of the building, which was where most of the labs were located.

She had told herself she would stop being surprised to see Tony Stark always randomly appearing around the building, yet she was still surprised to see him there. Though this time, he was pacing around outside one of the labs, looking a little nervous.

"I guess you no longer spend time on building your suits," Marcy surmised in greeting. "Have you built them all?"

Tony glanced her way and then went back to looking through the glass wall of the lab. "You know who they've got in there?"

"Who?" Marcy wondered, following his gaze. There were several techs wandering the lab. She wasn't sure exactly which one Tony was looking at.

"Betty Ross," he answered. "Bruce's Betty Ross. She's in there right now."

"Oh, good. I hoped they would. I figured she'd jump at the chance to work for SHIELD after a few years teaching high school science."

"SHIELD is fast. She was in witness protection and now she's just here under her own name."

"We are nothing if not efficient."

Tony chewed on a nail, still not making a move to go inside. "Bruce never mentioned how hot she was. Have you seen how hot she is?"

As he spoke, the tall brunette in the back stood and turned around, carrying a tray of vials over to the centrifuge. She walked with practiced grace, hair loose and silky around her long, elegant neck.

Marcy grinned. "Yeah, I've seen her. Even I get a crush on her sometimes."

Tony stared at Marcy with a indiscernible look on his face. She ignored it and stepped into the lab. One of the techs instantly recognized her and tapped Betty on the shoulder, pointing in Marcy's direction. Betty brightened and abandoned her task to meet Marcy at the door.

"Agent Gray?" she surmised, extending her hand. "I'm Dr. Ross. I've been brought in to evaluate your very unique and fascinating case."

"Hi," she greeted, shaking the other woman's hand firmly. "I'm happy they were able to bring you in."

Betty looked like she was going to say something else, but something behind Marcy caught her attention. "Is that... Tony Stark out there?"

Marcy turned around in time to see Tony duck around the corner, but then peek back around, trying to pretend he wasn't ducking away from them. He was failing miserably.

"Yeah, that's him," Marcy confirmed.

"Does he have business here at SHIELD?"

"Loitering is his business. And he's being uncharacteristically shy for some reason." Marcy motioned him to come in. Tony dithered around a moment longer and then strolled inside with large strides, stopping shoulder to shoulder with Marcy.

"Dr. Ross, lovely to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

The side of Betty's mouth ticked up a little, completely unaffected by having such a celebrity this close to her. "Only good things, I hope."

Tony barked out an odd laugh. If only she knew all the things Bruce had told him about her. "Yeah, you could say that."

Betty gave his response a curious look.

"Ignore him, he's just here out of scientific curiosity," Marcy said. "He promises he'll behave."

Betty gave Tony one more calculating gaze and then motioned them both further into the lab. "I've only had a few days to come up to speed on your current situation. I have a few working theories, but first, I want to run some tests to see if you're exhibiting the same side effects as the last time you came in or if anything's changed. Alright?"

Marcy sucked in a breath. Tests. They always wanted more tests.

Betty seemed to notice her trepidation and gave her an assuring smile. "Nothing invasive. Just a few quick ones, I promise."

The first was merely a photo of Marcy's eyes. After it was taken, the current shot was brought up on screen next to the original from the first battery of tests. They did not match.

"This is interesting," Betty said, pointing at the screen with a pen. "Your eyes have far less blue pigment in them today than they did when the first picture was taken..." she paused to consult her notes, "about a week ago."

"Does this mean whatever was going on with me is wearing off?" Marcy asked.

"Possibly. How is your appetite? You reported a much higher metabolism and constant hunger a week ago."

"It's back to normal."

Betty swiveled around in her chair. "Okay, let's test your physical strength."

The tests revealed the same thing. Marcy's strength was going back to something that was more appropriate for her size. Betty frowned a little as she sketched a few things in her notes.

"I hope this doesn't mean my job's nearly over," she muttered.

"Nah, I'm sure we'll find some other weird science for you to play with," Tony told her as he glanced over her shoulder. "There's always something new that pops up that needs a few good minds to poke at it."

Betty gave him a brief smile. From what she knew about Tony Stark from the news and other celebrity reporting outlets was completely different from the man that was indeed loitering around her lab. She could usually read people pretty well, but she was having a hard time reading the infamous billionaire that apparently had time to hang around some random SHIELD agent no one had heard of. Wasn't he dating Pepper Potts? What was he doing here?

"One more test, Marcy," Betty said to her with almost an apology. "I just need a little bit of blood."

Marcy sighed openly this time. Of course. They always needed blood. She started to roll up her sleeve.

"No need for that," Betty said primly, holding up a needle. "I just need your finger."

Marcy sat there a perplexed with her hand out. Just a small prick to her index finger and Betty had the blood on a slide and was inspecting it through the microscope. She was quiet for several moments as she studied the sample. Marcy was silently bitter now knowing that one drop of blood was a large enough sample.

Betty made noises of interest and jotted down a few more notes before returning to her computer. "It does seem that whatever was going with you earlier is wearing off."

"Just have no idea what started it," Tony said, still hovering around, trying to see Betty's notes.

"Well, let me show you something interesting and you can tell me if you have any thoughts." Betty brought up two different video files and posted them side by side on her dual screens. Both were microscopic footage of kinetic red dots that vibrated and moved around in their tiny little universe. That was all Marcy could glean from her very limited knowledge of this field.

"As you can see, both samples are behaving in the same way. The cells are very active, multiplying and repairing at a speed that is faster than that of the average person. This first sample is yours, Agent Gray, taken a week ago. This second sample was taken several years ago from a different person: Steve Rogers."

Both Tony and Marcy raised their brows in unison at the news.

"So, Agent Gray has been somehow exposed to the same super soldier serum that made our star spangled poster boy?" Tony asked.

"No. See, that's the curious part," Betty answered. "There is no trace of the serum in Marcy's system. The way her cells are acting, it's like they _learned_ how to mimic the cells of Captain Rogers. This might be a strange question, but is there any way you were... exposed to his DNA somehow?"

Marcy's eyes widened while Tony let out a loud snort before quickly composing himself. Marcy elbowed him in the side.

Betty watched them, suspicious. "Am I missing a joke here?"

"Well, it's just funny you mention DNA exposure," Tony said. "As Marcy here has been banging Cap on the regular. Right, Marce?"

She flushed a little. As facetious as she was around her friends about their relationship, she was still self-conscious about those outside their circle learning about it. "We're dating," she confirmed in a smaller voice.

"Wow," Betty said, impressed. "I feel like I should give you a high five. Could I... meet him?"

"I would be happy to introduce you to Steve, but he isn't in the country right now. I'll have to bring him by another time when he gets back."

Now Betty looked thoughtful. "Oh, that's right. I saw on the news he's out of the country. How long has he been gone? Has it been a while?"

"About five days."

"And before he left, you were often in close physical contact with each other?"

Marcy shrugged. "He's usually around. Though he does like to cuddle. He practically sleeps on top of me at night."

Betty's mouth quirked up. Apparently she thought that was a cute tidbit to learn about the famous Captain America. "If that's the case, the current theory is that your cells are acting like Captain Rogers' because they have learned to do so from being in close physical contact with him. It's also why your eyes were turning blue. I'm assuming his are the same color? Your cells are mimicking his."

Tony looked thoughtful as he ruminated on this new idea.

Marcy was frowning in distaste. "What are you saying? That prolonged exposure to Steve will... turn me into him?"

Tony openly looked Marcy up and down. "I'm trying to picture you as a man."

For a moment, she looked a little horrified at the possibilities.

"I don't think that's how it's going to work," Betty said. "So far, it's more like your cells are learning special attributes, not working to physically become a carbon copy of the source it's learning from. Your DNA isn't mutating into becoming the same as Captain Rogers, the cells are merely learning the same dance. And that dance happens to be increased strength and stamina and, possibly, an accelerated healing factor."

"And blue eyes?" Marcy asked.

"An unexpected side effect?"

"If I continue to have physical contact, is my hair going to go blonde?"

"At this point, I honestly don't know. But with the lack of physical contact, your cells seem to be reverting back to normal. If you don't like the results, you can just not touch him."

Marcy frowned and gave an unhappy noise.

Tony was grinning. "The not touching him is not an option, I take it?"

She continued to frown.

"We'll just keep an eye on it," Betty said with a smile. "When Captain Rogers gets back, tell him I prescribed prolonged physical contact. In the name of science."

Marcy covered her face, but said, "It probably won't be a problem."

Betty then looked at Tony. "Do you mind if I talk to Marcy privately? My next few questions are a little more personal."

Marcy didn't look too thrilled about that either, but Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I gotta go anyway. I've got this MIT presentation I need to finalize." He clapped Marcy heartily on the back. "Good luck with not turning into a man." Then to Betty, he produced a card. "For you. In case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call." He nodded to them both with a "Ladies," and then strolled out of the lab.

Betty watched him go, a little confused. "I was starting to think the rumors of him being a womanizer were exaggerated. I guess not."

"He didn't give that to you because he wants a date," Marcy told her. "He and Bruce Banner were friends. He meant if you ever need help you can call him."

Betty's brows rose in surprise and she looked at the card again in contemplation. "Bruce was here in this building, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

Betty's voice lowered. "Do you know where he is now? I saw him with the Avengers in the Sokovia footage."

"No one does, I'm afraid. After Sokovia he just left. It's the reason SHIELD hired you; because Dr. Banner isn't here anymore."

"He was the one working on your case, wasn't he?"

Marcy nodded.

Again, Betty's voice went low. All that time under a fake alias, watched like a hawk and not allowed to live her life as she wished had made her wary. "I have read your file. I know what you can do. Have you ever... used your ability to... deliver letters?"

Marcy smiled at her.

Betty's smile was much warmer. She looked as though her eyes would start to water any moment. "Thank you."

"Dr. Banner is a good person. It was my pleasure."

Betty sucked in a shaky breath and then let it out. "I don't suppose... you would ever like to talk sometime. Maybe tell me a little more about him being here?"

Marcy pulled out her phone and checked the clock. "I've got some time right now if you want to go get something to eat. There's a little bakery just down the road."

Betty smiled gratefully. "I'd like that."

* * *

.

It took longer to put Bucky under this time. Dr. Adams did this on purpose. He wanted to take his time and make sure his patient was thoroughly and deeply in a trance so he could really get under the surface and dig deep in the many layers that made up both James Barnes and the Winter Soldier. In truth, he had been working as a therapist to SHIELD's agents for many, many years and it was starting to wear on him. But this case, the case of James Barnes was fascinating and Dr. Adams was actually excited to excavate all the hidden secrets of this case.

As soon as Bucky was under, Adams took him back to the "house" he was in during the first session and immediately set Bucky out to explore it more thoroughly. Adams was starting to wonder if his theory of this house being a metaphysical representation of a combination of past events was incorrect. Bucky was describing every room he walked in with great detail. Maybe this was one house that actually existed. In more than one room, Bucky said there was a dead body on the floor, shot with a single bullet through the head.

"Did you shoot them?" Dr. Adams asked neutrally.

From where he lay on the couch, Bucky's brow twitched in concentration. He did not respond.

"Bucky, did you kill these people?"

"I... don't remember. I'm just... in the house and everyone is dead."

Adams frowned at that. If Bucky couldn't recall the memory, even when he was this deep under, that meant the brain-wiping method Hydra used had physically damaged the memory systems of Bucky's brain. There would be memories he would never be able to recover.

"Where are you going now, Bucky?"

"To the next floor. I must clear the house. My orders are no witnesses."

"What do you see on the next floor?"

"There's a woman in one of the bedrooms."

Dr. Adams glanced down when he noticed Bucky's metal arm twitch. His finger moved as if pulling an invisible trigger. His head then jerked to the side as if something caught his attention.

* * *

.

Bucky was there in the house. He did not remember being on the couch in Dr. Adams' office, but the older man's voice echoing in his head did not bother him either. In the distance, Billy Joel's voice drifted from a room in the back.

"What do you see?" the voice asked.

Bucky glanced to the door. A teenage girl stood in the doorway. She must have heard the body drop.

"A girl," Bucky said. "I have to." He raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Silently, the bullet shot out and penetrated the girl's forehead. Bucky caught the body this time and gently set it on the floor. Blood dribbled freely from the hole out of the back of the girl's skull.

"You killed her," Dr. Adams' voice said.

"I had to. Those were my orders. I did not want to. I did not even think about it. My arm. It moves on its own. It pulls the trigger before I can think."

"Are you blaming these deaths on your metal arm, Bucky?"

"No. But this is what happened."

"Alright. Now, where do you go?"

"I walk into the hall. One of the others is coming up the stairs."

"The others? What others?"

"There are two other Hydra agents. The house was too big for just one person to cover." Bucky suddenly felt a new memory come upon him. "Once we cleared the bottom floor, they sent me to the next one while they searched the house."

He saw the tall, well-muscled man climb the stairs. This was the team leader, Bucky remembered, though he couldn't recall the man's name. Josef? Maybe that was right. The man looked at the bodies on the ground and then gestured for Bucky to take the stairs to the top floor. Then, his memories cut and he was suddenly standing in a child's bedroom. The bed was small; too small for an adult. There were bight stickers and posters on the wall. Bucky felt his attention pulled toward them and a part of him didn't fully understand what he was looking at. The part of him that was once a child was tucked too far away from the surface for him to comprehend.

At first, the room seemed completely empty. Then, a hand grabbed his metal arm and he spun around, aiming his gun. The weapon's barrel landed on the forehead of a young boy who could have been no older that eight. He stared into the child's dark eyes and the boy stared back, unafraid.

No, that wasn't right. He had been in this situation before and his victim had been terrified.

"Bucky, what do you see?" Dr. Adams' voice echoed in the silent room.

His gun was no longer pointed at a boy, but now it was a girl. She looked to be maybe twelve, strawberry blonde with a thick collection of freckles on her face. Her eyes were green and they were full of tears. She was terrified in the face of him and his gun. As she should be, because he was going to kill her.

His metal arm pulled the trigger and she collapsed to the ground. This time, he did not catch her and they were no longer in the silent house. This was a big, open space and there were people there. So many people watching him murder this child. Not a single spectator did anything about what he had just done. Some looked disgustingly pleased about it.

That thought sent the bile roiling in his stomach. The small body hit the floor and everything suddenly spilled out of Bucky's brain. All at once he saw a multitude of bodies hit the ground, in a myriad of different places. With guns, blades, with his fists, he murdered people over and over again. Every time Hydra pulled him from the ice someone died. Often, multiple someones.

He saw all their faces at once. The faces that haunted him at the edge of his dreams. Their blood suffocated and drowned him. He felt their hands on his neck. The weight of their pain on his soul.

"Bucky?"

Dr. Adams' voice was far away; muffled as if he were underwater, being pulled deeper and deeper.

Bucky fought to escape their grasp, but their rage held him tight, crushing him, killing him. He would die here with them; all trapped in the dark together.

"Bucky, wake up."

There was the snap of fingers and Bucky shot up on the couch, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. His eyes were wide, his body shaking.

Dr. Adams placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "It's over now. You're okay."

Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. For only a split second, Bucky knew nothing. Then, it all came rushing back. So many memories of the things he had done over decades of being under Hydra's control. Nearly every day that he was awake, he had been killing someone. It came back in a dizzying flood and Bucky was helpless to stop it. He scrambled off the couch and over to the trash bin where he threw up multiple times and then continued to dry heave for several moments more.

Dr. Adams approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder once more. "Bucky. Sargent Barnes, you need to-"

"Get away from me!" Bucky screamed, swiping at him. He pressed his back against the wall, wild eyes looking around, but not necessarily seeing what was right in front of him. His fingers went into his hair, grasping it in his fists as his body continued to shake.

"Bucky," Dr. Adams said again with patience. "They're just memories. They're over now. They can't hurt you. Can you take a few deep breaths? Give yourself a moment to calm down."

Though he tried to fight it, Bucky's eyes began to water. "I can hear their voices, begging me to let them live. I can remember..." his voice cracked, "so many disgusting things that I've done. Why did you do this to me? I could handle it before! And now-" He cut himself off, closing his eyes and drawing his knees up to his chest. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted the pain to swallow him up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know this is what would happen. But ignoring your past and your memories was never going to be the way to fix your problems."

Anger suddenly filled Bucky's chest and it stabilized him enough to get back on his feet. He turned and forced his body to head for the door.

"You shouldn't leave right now," Dr. Adams insisted. "You need to-" He stopped when Bucky gave him such a dead, dangerous look he actually feared for his safety.

Bucky walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

.

"So, was it Bruce who then introduced you to Tony Stark?" Betty asked as the two women walked companionably back to SHIELD HQ. She had meant to ask earlier, but they had immediately gotten on the subject of Bruce, a subject Betty could talk about for hours. And they talked the entire time about him—or at least she talked and Marcy listened. She completely forgot to satisfy this one curiosity until it was almost too late.

"No, I actually met Tony first, I'm afraid," Marcy said with humor. "I called in sick for work and he showed up at my door. I had never met him before that."

Betty furrowed her brows, wondering if she missed something with the story. "Why was he at your door?"

"Because I would make coffee for the staff in the morning. Apparently in a way no one else could. And when Tony's coffee wasn't good, he hunted me down and showed up at my door while I was out of commission with a terrible cold."

"Tony Stark hunted you down. For coffee. And that was the first time you had ever met him?"

"Yup. And now he randomly shows up at my house or my lab studies and pokes his nose in my business. So don't use that card he gave you unless you absolutely have to. Then he'll start popping out of your cereal boxes. Once he's in, he's not going away."

Betty laughed out loud at the mental image.

Marcy's phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out. "Hey James," she greeted with a bright voice. "What's up?"

The response did not reflect her mood. "I'm waiting at the car. Can we go?"

Marcy wanted to ask him what was wrong, but that conversation could wait when other people weren't around to hear it. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. See you then."

She hung up and turned to Betty. "My friend's waiting in the parking lot to get out of here so I've got to go. It was really nice to meet you."

She nodded. "You as well. Come back and visit me again."

They began to split ways as Betty headed for the front doors and Marcy veered off in the direction of her car. She turned around, walking backwards. "Pretty sure I have to see you again anyway."

"Doctor's orders," Betty laughed back.

The two waved each other off before Marcy turned her full attention to the way in front of her and approached the car. At first, it looked like there was no one else around. But as she came closer, Bucky raised up from where he squatted on the other side.

"Were you... hiding over there?" Marcy asked with a bit of humor.

Bucky didn't say anything. He remained a dark presence as the door unlocked and he slipped inside the car. Marcy joined him as she sat in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. Bucky wouldn't look her way. He was already in brood mode, glaring out the windshield.

Alright. Marcy started the car and drove them out of the lot and onto the city street. In a few minutes, they were on the highway heading toward her neighborhood. Still, Bucky was silent, slouching like a sullen child in his seat as if trying to melt away from her and block her out.

Marcy kept to herself for a moment longer and then decided to speak. "Do you want to talk to me about what happened or do you want me to pretend that it's nothing? I'll happily do either one, but you know Steve is going to ask until you tell him."

Bucky sulked a few seconds more and then glanced her way, his expression softening a little. He looked down at his lap, running his flesh hand through his hair. He then stretched and pulled himself into a straighter sitting position. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

"I started to remember so much... too much." He rubbed his face with both hands. "More than I ever wanted to remember. More things than I ever thought I did. I can't..." He paused for a moment, letting out a few labored breaths, hands still over his face. "I don't know how I am supposed to go on from here or what I'm supposed to do." He paused again, looking down at his hands as they fell into his lap. Marcy didn't interrupt as he thought on his next works. "I mean, I know I did bad things, horrible things for Hydra. But to relive them, to know for sure what exactly I did..."

He looked out the side window. "There was this base in Siberia where they kept me frozen. When they would bring me out, the first place I would go was into this chair. They would strap me down, put this metal contraption on my head and I knew what was coming next. This I never, ever forgot. They would switch it on, sending electric needles through my skull, frying my circuits, turning my brain to scrambled eggs to wipe my slate clean so I was ready to take the next mission without question. It hurt like hell every single time. I hated it and I had no control to stop it. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about that chair and I have to tell myself over and over that it's never going to happen to me again before I can calm down."

He glanced over at Marcy and looked away. "I never wanted that chair so badly in my life. I want to wipe it clean again. This... this hurts so much more."

There was no response from the driver, but the car began to slow and pulled off to the side of the road. The car was put into park and Bucky felt arms around him, pulling his head and shoulders into an awkward hug. That pressure around him somehow lessened the pressure in his chest. And he let out a shaky breath, fighting not to lose his composure more than he already had.

"Nothing's changed," Marcy murmured to him. "The people who love you still love you."

Bucky almost lost it right there. A silent sob shuddered through him and his eyes became wet. He immediately scrubbed them away and turned in on himself again. Marcy gave him one more tight hug and then let him go. They drove silently back to the house.

* * *

.

Once at home, Bucky dropped himself onto the couch with an exhausted sigh. Dippy was immediately in his lap, purring his head off. Marcy lingered in the area to see if he wanted her around, but he seemed to not appreciate her company at the moment so she let him be. The next time she glanced into the living room he was gone.

After a while, Bucky was discovered outside on a ladder, cleaning out the gutters. He kept himself busy the entire day, mowing the lawn and then fixing anything around the old house he could find to fix. Late in the afternoon, Marcy left him a sandwich and a bottle of water where she found him cleaning and organizing the garage. She understood the need to deal with personal issues alone and in one's own way. She would let him have as much space as he needed.

Around that time, a text from Steve finally pinged on her phone. It read: _Sorry I haven't been able to respond sooner. We're heading home now. I won't be stateside until late so I will probably sleep at the compound. We can talk tomorrow._

It sounded like Bucky wasn't the only person keen on not expressing himself over recent events. Marcy responded back: _That's fine, travel safe. FYI, Bucky had a difficult therapy session today. He's trying to work through some things._

A few moments later, Steve responded. _Is he okay?_

 _I think he will be. I have a feeling we'll be up pretty late ourselves. Don't worry, I will take care of him. Love you._

Steve did not respond back. Marcy didn't worry about it. He was either busy or possibly having trouble connecting if they were in the air flying over different countries. She had more important things to focus on.

After dark, Bucky went jogging as per his usual schedule. While he was gone, Marcy set up the front room in preparation for a late night. She ordered pizza and put out all sorts of snacks before searching for movies. It was all guess work. It was very possibly Bucky would shut himself up in his room and go to bed the moment he came back from his run. But if he would rather have company, Marcy would be ready.

When Bucky finally returned, he only gave Marcy a glance as he came in through the front door and went directly down the hall. The sound of the shower drifted up moments later. Maybe he was going to disappear for the rest of the night. Marcy remained on the couch and grabbed another piece of pizza. It was getting late, but she still wanted to stay up. Maybe Steve would text or call. Probably not. But she wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. So she sat in the living room in the dark, the only light coming from the TV as she continued with her movie.

At some point, Bucky came back. Marcy noticed his presence by the glow of the screen before he sat himself next to her on the couch. He was still stiff and aloof for a while, even though he was mere inches from her. Then the wall around him caved with a heavy sigh. He slumped as if all the air was let out of him with that sigh. His shoulders slid into hers for support, his head eventually finding its way to Marcy's shoulder and there he remained, eyes closed. Eyes still on the screen, Marcy reached up at patted his head, giving permission for him to stay there. She tugged the blanket around him and the two stayed as they were as the movies went on deep into the night.

* * *

.

It was so late it was early when Steve stepped silently into the house. A half hour more and the sun would begin to cast its first haze of light on the world. Steve had arrived at the Avengers compound less than two hours earlier and had originally intended on sleeping there until morning. Wanda was still distraught over her mistakes in Lagos and he wanted to be there for her. But Marcy's text about Bucky kept Steve restless and awake despite his own exhaustion from the trip. He still meant it when he said he did not want Bucky's problems to become Marcy's problems. Unable to sleep, he drove back to the house in the darkness before dawn.

The TV was still on when Steve stepped inside, illuminating the two sleeping bodies leaning companionably against each other on the couch. Steve stood over them a moment, watching. He decided it was best to try to get them to bed. Approaching, he bent over the couch, intending to see if he could wake his girlfriend with a kiss on the forehead.

As he moved, he saw it by the glow of the screen; Bucky's eyes snapped open. Eyes wide, face blank and soulless, his metal hand shot up. Those immovable, stainless steel fingers clamped tight around Steve's neck.

* * *

.

 **Author's Notes:** Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this super long chapter. I hope it was worth the wait. Sorry for the cliffhanger, I had to end it somewhere or it would go on forever. I'll try to get the next one out as fast as I can.

BTW, those who only know me through this story, I do have a Deviant Art page and I have been drawing a bunch of Marvel fanart. (Among other things.) I don't think the links on my profile work. I'm Ty-Chou on DA if you want to check out art based off this fic series.

Thanks everyone!


	5. Chapter 5: Falling Apart

Author's notes: Sorry it's late. Holidays and winter depression, yo.

.

 _I'm falling apart  
I'm barely breathing  
with a broken heart  
that's barely beating_

 _In the pain  
There is healing  
In your name  
I find meaning  
So I'm holding on,  
Barely holding on to you _

-Lifehouse, "Broken"

 **All of Me**

 **Chapter Five: Falling Apart**

Steve immediately jerked back from the iron grip, but the metal hand held tight.

"Buck," he managed to choke out. "It's me. Let go."

Bucky's face, though it had been as soulless stone a moment before, was now horrified and panicked. "I—I can't!" He grabbed his metal wrist with his flesh hand, trying to pull it free. "I can't make the arm move."

By now, Marcy was wide awake and staring at the surreal scene before her. The blue light from the TV screen vaguely highlighted the forms of the two struggling men, but it was hard to make out what was going on. She reached over and switched on a nearby lamp.

Steve's face was turning redish purple from lack of air. He was trying to pry off the metal fingers still constricting his windpipe. Bucky, too, was struggling to take back his arm.

"What's wrong with it?" Marcy demanded. "Is the hand stuck? Are the fingers locked?"

"The hand is working," Bucky grunted, "but it's squeezing harder and I'm not doing it. It's like it has a mind of its own!"

Unsure of what else to do, Marcy scrambled over to Bucky's arm. Despite what he said, she figured there had to be some sort of malfunction. She touched the metal arm in order to inspect it and Bucky's hold immediately let go. Steve stumbled back, gasping for air. Marcy moved forward to inspect his bruised neck when Bucky grabbed her wrist. She glanced down at the metal hand keeping her in place. So did Bucky, still wide-eyed and startled.

"I'm not doing this, I swear!" he insisted.

Marcy tried to pull of out his grip, both of them momentarily concerned she would be attacked next. The Winter Soldier's metal arm only held her firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.

Marcy thought for a moment and then said to Bucky, "Sit down on the couch and scoot over, all the way to the right."

He did so and Marcy was pulled with him. She sat down next to Bucky, his metal hand still holding her wrist, and then motioned for Steve to join her on the other side.

"Are you okay?" she asked as Steve coughed as he sat. The normal color was starting to come back to his face, but his neck was still bright red. With her free hand she touched the clear finger imprints on his skin.

"I'll... be fine..." Steve rasped. "I just want to know what happened."

"I don't even know what happened!" Bucky exclaimed. "I wasn't even fully awake and this arm just... suddenly attacked!"

"No, you were completely awake," Steve insisted. "I saw your eyes look right at me."

"I don't remember that."

Marcy still had her attention on Steve and his poor neck as she spoke. "Were you in the middle of another dream?" She then made a sound of sympathy for Steve and reached up to kiss the bruised flesh. That was when she felt the metal arm holding her now tugging her back. Again, it wasn't strong enough to hurt, but the metal arm had no trouble pulling her away from Steve.

"Umm..."

"See? This is what I'm talking out," Bucky said as his metal arm practically pulled her across his lap. "I am not doing this. I have no control of this stupid arm. It's doing that on its own."

Steve furrowed his brows. He didn't like Bucky dragging Marcy around like that, even if she wasn't getting hurt. It didn't mean it wouldn't hurt her eventually. "Bucky, let go of her."

"I'd like to, Steve. I really would." The worst part was that Bucky could feel the rest of his body wanting to react with the arm as if it had a second brain. Bucky's body, however, was under his control and wasn't going to move unless he agreed to it.

"Okay, let's try something else," Marcy announced. "Stand up with me." Bucky stood with her toe to toe as Marcy inspected the hand on her wrist. "Okay, now let go," she said, tapping on the fingers. "I'm not going anywhere, but I need you to let go." It was as if she was addressing the arm itself. And it seemed to work. The hand loosened, sliding down her hand to grip her fingers for a moment and then fell to Bucky's side.

Bucky raised his metal arm, bending it up and down and then clenching and unclenching his fist. He seemed to have regained control. "Well, that was weird. I'm sorry Steve. I don't know why that happened."

Steve frowned in concern.

"He was doing so well while you were gone," Marcy insisted. "Not a single incident. He was sleeping normal and everything-" She jerked back when Bucky's metal hand pressed its palm against her cheek.

This time, Bucky slapped it away with a "Stop that!"

Steve made a motion for Marcy to quickly come over to his side of the room and she did. Steve then stood between them.

"Just go to bed, I'm going to stay out here," Bucky said, waving them both to move away from him. "Maybe sleep on the couch." He rubbed his face tiredly.

"That sounds like a good idea," Steve agreed. He looked to Marcy as if she were going to challenge that decision. She made no protest. If the boys were fine with it, she was fine with it. She retired to her bedroom with Steve protectively bringing up the rear. He shut the door behind them and then locked it as an afterthought.

Marcy thought that was a bit unnecessary, but didn't bring it up as she changed out of her sweats and into something lighter for bed. Steve just kicked off his jeans and was already under the sheets before she climbed in. By the light of the bedside lamp, he pulled her up so she was resting on his chest. The two held each others' gaze.

"Your eyes are different," Steve said as he cupped her face.

"Less blue?" she asked casually, and he made a noise of agreement. "Yeah. But the blue's going to come back now that you're home again."

He blinked at her, wondering if he had heard right. Fatigue was setting in as it had been a few days since he had gotten a good amount of sleep. "What does that mean?"

"Apparently, the working theory is that my cells have learned to copy special attributes from other cells they've come in contact with. As in, my increased strength and the blue eyes come from prolonged exposure to you, Steve Rogers. While you were gone, they began to fade. And now that you're back, I guess I'm going to start getting super hungry again."

Steve blinked at her a few more times. "Is that really what's happening?"

"Possibly."

He leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. His fingers idly slid up the back of her shirt and traced the dip of her spine.

"Does that worry you?" Marcy asked.

"I just wonder if this was what that serum was supposed to do to you. And if this is what happens when you touch me, what if you touched someone with actual powers?"

"You mean like Wanda or Vision?"

Steve didn't open his eyes. He breathed out loudly through his nose; a sound that wasn't happy.

Marcy kissed his chin. "Don't worry, I don't plan on any prolonged physical exposure to anyone but you."

That statement earned her a chuckle and she loved feeling the vibration of it through his chest. As she lay there, a stray thought wandered in.

"Actually, I think it already happened once. It was the day I was injected; when Bruce saved me from the crashing ship. I had a cut on my cheek and after Bruce—the Hulk—put me down, the cut was healed. I remember looking at my hands and thinking my skin looked a little green for a moment, then it went back to normal. Probably because the two of us weren't touching anymore. But we were only in physical contact for a matter of minutes. So maybe the greater the power of the other person, the shorter the time it takes me—takes my cells to learn to mimic... whatever it is they want to mimic, I guess? I don't know.

"Too bad Bruce isn't here to help with that theory. And honestly, I'm not really keen on trying it with Wanda or Vision. I'm a little afraid of what would happen." She sighed. "It's just going to have to remain guess work for now, I suppose."

The room was silent. Steve's hands had stopped wandering her back a while ago and he gave no feedback.

"Steve?" Marcy looked up.

His eyes were closed, his breaths slow and even. He had fallen asleep. Marcy was a little irritated at first. This was kind of important. But she also had to remind herself he was probably exhausted before he even made it back into the country and then he still drove the extra hour to get here. He was forgiven this time.

She affectionately brushed a few strands of blond hair from his forehead and then reached over to turn off the lamp.

* * *

.

The next morning, Steve was uncharacteristically still asleep. He must have really been tired. No doubt that trip to Lagos was rough on everyone who went. They were probably all still sleeping.

When Marcy walked into the kitchen with stockinged feet, Bucky was sitting at the table. He was still in his sweats from the evening before and staring in the middle distance over a cooling cup of coffee. (Bucky went out and bought his own coffee maker when he found out Marcy didn't own one. He, too, was now addicted to her particular brand just like Tony.) Marcy paused behind him, watching the back of his head.

"You didn't go back to bed last night, did you?" she asked softly.

He made a low grumble and shook his head.

"How's the... arm?"

This question caused him to glance back at her for a moment. Then he looked at his metal hand, clenching his fist and then wiggling the fingers. "Seems normal so far."

Marcy sat in the seat next to him and held out her hand. He paused before hesitantly putting his hand, palm up, on top of hers. She ran her fingers over the metal palm and his fingers twitched. "Do you think it was maybe a glitch? When was the last time you had someone look at it?"

"Never," he chuffed out. "I don't really... like it when people go digging around in there."

She patted the arm slightly above the wrist. "Maybe we can get Tony Stark to look at it, just to see if everything is working correctly."

Bucky's brows furrowed in silent concern. He didn't say anything.

She smiled at him. "It will be okay. You're with people who care about you. It's different this time."

Again, he said nothing. She gave his arm one more friendly pat and then stood to leave. She only made it a single step before a hand on her shirt prevented her from moving. Glancing back, she found Bucky's metal hand holding the back of her shirt in its fist as if it didn't want her to leave.

"You okay?" she asked.

Bucky glanced backward as if he wasn't aware of what his arm was doing. But then his hand let go. "Yeah," he said gruffly and turned back around. "Sorry."

Marcy wasn't sure if that was on purpose or if the arm was once more acting on its own. Bucky seemed to be folding in on himself again. She decided she would wait until Steve woke up so they could all discuss it together as she looked for the waffle iron. Who knew when Steve had eaten his last real meal. She wanted to make sure he had something substantial for breakfast.

It was nearly forty minutes later before Steve finally showed his face. He still looked a bit tired and worn as Marcy gave him a warm welcome.

"Sleep okay?" she asked as she reached up to kiss his chin. His arms encircled her, pressing her against his rock hard chest.

"Best sleep I've had in a while," he murmured, resting his brow against hers. "Sorry I passed out on you last night." He breathed her in and then let it out slowly. "It's so good to be back home with you."

She grinned into his shirt, feeling warm all over. She liked that he referred to her place as home; that he felt safe and comfortable here. They held each other for a moment until they heard Bucky step back into the dinning area. Just as Steve let go and turned around, a metal fist flew toward him. He immediately caught it before it collided with his face.

There was a moment of wide-eyed silence between all three of them.

"Steve... I did not mean to do that," Bucky floundered.

"You didn't mean to try to punch my lights out?" he challenged.

"It's not me, it's the arm!"

"The arm wants to punch me."

"...Yes." Bucky said with a frown. "I don't know why."

Steve's temper flared. "You don't know WHY?! What are you talking about? What is going on?"

Bucky glared at him, both his fists clenching now.

"Okay boys, get some space and breathe for a moment," Marcy said, stepping between them. "We can figure this out. There has to be an explanation. Steve, you don't honestly believe James _wants_ to hurt you."

Steve turned around, gaining some space from the other soldier. He ran a hand through his hair as he paced the room.

"Steve, you know I wouldn't be doing this as a joke," Bucky insisted. "I already have so many things wrong with me, you think I want one more?"

This softened Steve's agitation a little. "No." He paced a little more and then came back to them. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"Sick of me coming after your life?" Bucky finished with a self-depreciating smile. "Me, too. Trust me."

"And no one's really gotten hurt yet, right?" Marcy cut in, eager for the two not to be cross with each other.

Steve suddenly gave his best friend a look, not liking how close Marcy was to that metal arm. The arm that Bucky claimed was attacking of its own accord.. "Going after me is one thing. If you end up hurting Marcy with that stupid arm, even on accident, I'll kill you."

Bucky glanced over at at Marcy's surprised face, then looked back at Steve in all seriousness. "If I ever let that happen, I'll kill myself."

Both soldiers were now looking at her with heat in their expressions. It was too intense; they were standing too close. Marcy's face flushed and she found herself taking a step back. When her retreat was blocked off by the counter ledge in her back, she closed her eyes and faded, disappearing from their sight.

The guys gawked at the space where she used to be. She faded in front of them so seldom, it was easy to forget she had the ability. The two looked at each other again and wordlessly agreed to calm it down for now.

"Marce, it's okay," Steve said in a softer tone. "We're not fighting anymore. I'm not mad, I'm just frustrated and scared."

"I'm scared, too," Bucky added, even softer. He did not like admitting it. "I don't know what's going on. But I didn't mean to scare you, too."

"I'm not scared," Marcy's indignant voice announced. She appeared, not where she had been standing before, but off to the side, near the entrance way to the living room. "You guys were just... really close in my face and it was like..." Her face flushed again and she tried to shake it. "I'm not afraid of either of you, no matter what's happening or how much you fight."

Bucky glanced from the place she was before she faded to the place where she now stood. "Are you sure you don't also have the power to teleport, Doll-"

Marcy gave him a look.

Bucky quickly cut himself off with a curse. It was going to be difficult to kick that habit.

They all looked at each other for a moment.

"Okay," Steve announced with a sigh. "So, what do we do about this?"

* * *

.

Dr. Adams sat in his chair, looking at the three people in a row on his couch. Marcy was in the middle with a super soldier on either side. The therapist chewed a little on the end of his pen and they explained the situation as best as they could. Bucky was visibly sullen and suspicious about being in the therapist's office after the session the day before, but he still gave information as he was asked.

"So, the arm has only attacked Captain Rogers, correct?" Adams clarified. "It hasn't gone after anyone else? Not Agent Gray at all?"

"Not yet," Steve said with a frown.

"I think it... likes her," Bucky ventured. "If it's possible for a metal arm to like somebody." Currently, said arm sat in Marcy's lap where she gripped the hand with one of hers while patting the arm with another. It was partially to keep the arm from moving, but also as a gesture of comfort.

"The arm can't want anything," Dr. Adams said. "The arm is a part of you. This is a subconscious part of you trying to send a message."

Marcy looked at Steve's glare and cracked up. "Steve's so mad! I'm sorry. I shouldn't find this funny." She bumped her boyfriend's shoulder, hoping it would get him to soften a little. It only slightly had the desired effect.

"Agent Gray, would you mind leaving the room for a moment?" Adams asked pragmatically.

She stiffened as if she were in trouble for laughing.

"I want to see what happens when you're not around."

"Okay," Marcy agreed. "I'll be just outside the door."

When she left, the door closed behind her, Dr. Adams told the two soldiers to stand together facing one another. Both eyed the other, but nothing happened.

"I don't feel anything," Bucky said in confusion. "Everything is back to normal."

"Because Agent Gray isn't here?" Adams ventured.

"That doesn't make sense," Steve said. "What does she have to do with it?"

"Think of it this way: Bucky's last mission as the Winter Soldier was to kill you, Captain Rogers. You were the enemy. The first mission Bucky gave to himself was to save Agent Gray from the enemy."

"I'm... trying to save her from Steve?" Bucky asked, confused.

"Tell me, how exactly do you feel about Agent Gray?" Adams suddenly asked.

Bucky balked at the question, his face going pale, then a bit of a flush hitting his cheeks. "I like her just fine, but not how you're trying to make it sound. She's my friend. Of course I would try to keep her safe if there was something that was a threat to her. I feel the same way about Steve. If you're trying to spin this as some sort of jealousy thing, I'm walking out that door."

"Calm down, Bucky, I'm not trying to insinuate anything. I'm merely visiting all the avenues of thought. We can't rule out any possibility just yet."

Bucky continued to bristle. "You should rule it out because I said you should rule it out. And you know what? It's Sargent Barnes to you now, Doc. Especially after what you did to me yesterday."

"Wait? What did he do?" Steve asked. They hadn't had the time or opportunity to fill Steve in on Bucky's hypnotherapy session from the day before.

"More than he should have." Bucky glared, his anger clear and still rising.

"Remembering the things you were forced to do in the past and dealing with that should be part of your recovery," Dr. Adams insisted calmly. "You can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm not trying to!" Bucky exclaimed. His frustration began to take a dangerous tone. "I'm not trying to excuse what I did! I'm not trying to pretend it wasn't me who pulled the trigger all those times! I just don't want to be forced to remember the nightmare of being trapped in a body, in a _mind_ , that isn't my own! Why couldn't you let me have that?"

Marcy opened the door and stepped in without invitation. "I could hear you guys yelling. Is everyone okay?"

"It's fine, Marce," Steve said, though concern kept his voice tight.

"No!" Bucky protested. "It's not fine and I am not okay! And I'm never going to _be_ okay! Every part of me is broken. All the pieces have been ripped out and forced into the wrong places. Now everything I am is just one big malfunction." He looked at his metal arm. "Just like this."

"It's okay, though." Marcy's soft voice cut through the desperate tension in the room. "It's okay if you're broken, you still have us. Steve and I aren't going anywhere. You can take all the time you need to get those parts working again. Even if there's some parts that will never be fixed, we're still not leaving you, right?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He was fighting to keep his face neutral, though his eyes watered and he had to look away. Marcy wanted to hug him, but given the odd dynamics growing between the three of them, she felt it was not appropriate. Steve did it for her, suddenly grabbing Bucky up into a large embrace. Bucky eventually hugged his best friend back, with both arms.

"Alright, come on. We're going home," Marcy announced.

This session isn't finished yet," Dr. Adams reminded.

"Yes, it is," Marcy insisted. "I shouldn't have let him come back here with the state he was in yesterday after leaving _your_ office." She motioned both soldiers forward. "Come on, boys, we're going home."

Bucky immediately walked toward her, not even thinking about it.

"Wait." Steve remained where he was. "I don't think it's a good idea to leave now."

"Why? What happened when I wasn't in the room?" Marcy then asked. "Besides James yelling at the doctor?"

"Everything was normal," Dr. Adams said, completely calm and not at all offended by Bucky's irritation at him. "I posed as a theory to the two of them: as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's last order from Hyrda was to kill Captain Rogers. But when he chose to give himself a mission, he chose to save your life. Now the two orders are battling for control in his subconscious."

Marcy mulled that over in her head for a moment. "So... you're saying his actions have been protective... of me, in a weird way." She glanced at Bucky, who wouldn't meet her gaze as he folded his arms self-consciously across his chest.

"Yes," Dr. Adams confirmed.

"I can work with that. I'm taking you both home."

"But we didn't finish what we came here for," Steve countered. "Bucky's still..." He gestured at his friend.

"We came here because you were worried Bucky would hurt me. You don't worry about him taking a random swing at you. If you trust the doctor's theory to be correct, I'm currently the safest one out of the three of us."

Steve met her gaze, stubbornness on his face. She didn't reflect the same expression. She was convinced of her argument, but open to hear him. Steve looked over at Bucky who was eyeing the door, itching to get out of this place. He had forgotten that Bucky had experienced a troubling session the day before. There had never been time to get the whole story of what happened. Maybe he did need some time to be away from here and figure things out before any of them went back to the therapist.

"Okay." Steve glanced back at Dr. Adams who continued to observe from his seat. "Thank you for seeing us. I think we're going home for now. But we'll be in touch, if that's alright."

Dr. Adams nodded, not at all irritated with the session cut short. This was the first time meeting Agent Gray, though he had heard about her since his first session with Sargent Barnes. Her pragmatic way of dealing with the situation was interesting, as was the dynamic of seeing all three of them interact together. He hoped they would come back again and he was curious to see what sort of headway they would make with this situation.

"That's fine. Please feel free to call me whenever you have need."

Bucky actually made a huffing sound as he immediately let himself out. Marcy was the next to leave, motioning to Steve to do the same. The captain looked back at Dr. Adams, who said nothing else. So Steve followed the other two out the door.

* * *

.

In the car on the way home, Steve fully meant to hear all about Bucky's session the day before. He expected it would give him better insight as to exactly why this sudden change had occurred. However, his cell phone pinged before he could start asking questions.

Steve sighed audibly from the passenger seat as he looked at his phone.

"Everything okay?" Marcy asked as she drove.

"It's Tony. He wants me down at the compound for some kind of meeting."

"Should we all just go? We're already in the car. We could have Tony look at that arm while we're out there."

"For some reason, this meeting involves the Secretary of State."

"I should probably not be there, then," Bucky said from the back seat.

Marcy glanced at him though the rear view mirror. "I would rather not go then either. Is that okay, Steve, if we both stay home?"

The captain thought about it seriously for several moments. What she was asking was did he feel confident she would be safe left alone with Bucky. Dr. Adams' new theory did make sense. Bucky had not caused any harm or concern to Marcy while Steve was in Lagos. Why would this be any different when it was Steve himself who had been the only target of the metal arm's aggression?

"Yeah, that should be fine. I'll come back home as soon as I can."

* * *

.

Steve regretted going to this meeting with Tony, the other Avengers, and the Secretary of State. The heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach began when Secretary Ross first mentioned "perspective." Then he treated them all to footage of great destruction—destruction that had happened on their watch while they were trying to save the world from things like an alien invasion or the destruction of all mankind from a misguided AI with a robot army and plans to devastate the entire planet.

Of course, there was also plenty of footage from Lagos, the wound that was still fresh for those present. Steve could feel Wanda's shame and heartache from across the meeting table. Ross didn't let up as he immediately produced a ridiculously large manuscript called the Sokovia Accords and gave them all a mere three days to decide to agree to it with an ultimatum to sign or "retire", as he put it.

Afterwards, he immediately paraded off to let the Avengers stew in their conflicting feelings after he had so suddenly turned their world upside down.

Then the arguing started. Sam and Rhodes were the loudest at first, going at it against each other, clearly on opposite sides of the argument. As the accords were passed around to review, everyone else put in their opinion. Vision being insightful, but somewhat neutral to both the accords and the situation. Natasha was willing to consider it, while Clint was not. Which got the two of them going at it. Wanda said nothing. Steve didn't either, not until Tony stood upon his soap box to preach about the accords.

"We need to be put in check," was Tony's argument.

"If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose," Steve countered.

"Look, if we don't do this now," Tony said to the room, "it will be done to us later. That's a fact and it won't be pretty."

"You're saying they'll come for me," Wanda finally spoke.

"They'll come for all of us," Clint said.

"You know, Agent Gray told me they would," Vision said thoughtfully, causing Steve to glance up from where he was staring hard at the tabletop. "'They will come for us in little ways' she told me. Checks and balances, vague accords. 'Clever traps' she called them."

Steve was about to say something when his phone buzzed. There were only two simple sentences in the text: _She's gone. In her sleep._

Everything inside him suddenly went dead and nothing mattered anymore.

"I have to go," Steve suddenly announced. He stood and walked directly out of the room, the other Avengers watching after him in surprise.

Steve disappeared after that. He was not in the compound and, that night, he did not come home.

* * *

.

It was early in the morning, the gray of twilight still washing out all other color in the world, when Steve stepped into the house. He found Bucky at the table, staring out the door to the backyard, a cooled cup of coffee before him.

"Did you sleep at all?" Steve asked in a low voice, sitting next to him.

"Not really. Just pretended I did so Marcy would go to bed."

Steve nodded. With a large sigh, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"I take it you didn't get much sleep either," Bucky guessed.

"No," he replied. Then, after a long pause, "Peggy passed away. She's gone, Buck."

"Steve... I'm sorry. I know she meant a lot to you. I know you loved her. If there's anything I can do..."

He sighed again. "There's nothing to be done. She lived her life and it was her time to go."

"But that didn't stop you from driving around all night long, feeling sorry," Bucky said knowingly.

"I suppose not."

"Will this change anything between you and Marcy?"

Steve suddenly felt the bitterness of the entire night, and even the day before, roil inside him. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Bucky shot his friend a look. "Steve, come on. Are you really asking me that?"

He rubbed his face. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just... angry and tired. It hurts and I don't know what to do about it."

The two sat in silence for several minutes until Bucky spoke. "I never would have saved her if it wasn't for you, Steve."

He raised his head. "What do you mean?"

"I was hiding at that Hydra compound in the mountains. When they brought Marcy in, I went through her things, trying to find out who she was. She had a picture of you and her. From karaoke, she said."

Despite his sadness, Steve smiled a little at that.

"Did you love her then, Steve?"

"I was beginning to."

"Then don't shut her out because of this." Bucky stared hard at his coffee, fingering the cup. "Marcy thinks I'm her savior because of that place. The truth is, I let them hurt her and slice her up for days before I did anything. I was too scared to reveal myself. It was only when they were about to cut her damn skull open that I finally-"

"Buck, stop," Steve said with pain. He closed his eyes against the mental image.

Bucky didn't stop. "You wouldn't have let it get that far. You never would have let them touch her. That's why you have to be the one in her life, Steve. You always make the right decisions, not me. You keep her safe. I have this feeling that if you left, if it was just her and me, I would somehow get her killed. Don't leave her with me, Steve."

Steve stared at him for a while, his brows drawn in concern. "You make it sound like you could never walk away on your own."

"I... honestly don't know if I could. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could go. I need her. No matter how broken I feel, no matter how much I make things worse, she always looks at me like I'm still a person. She has this way of telling me exactly what I need to hear so I can make it one more day."

Steve looked at his best friend and his heart hurt. He had no idea it was like that for Bucky.

Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper. "Without that, I feel like I would just fall apart until there was nothing left of me." He added in an ever softer voice. "I'm sorry."

Steve was about to say something when they heard sounds of movement coming from down the hall. A few moments later, Marcy walked into the kitchen in a pair of shorts and one of Steve's sweaters.

"Hey, I thought I heard male voices in here." She paused when she read the somber temperature of the room. Both soldiers were suspiciously interested in the tabletop. Bucky's metal forefinger scratched in agitation at the table's surface."I'm guessing neither one of you got much sleep last night." When neither responded she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"I have to go to a funeral in London," Steve said. "Would both of you like to come?"

* * *

.

The flight to London was good for the three of them. With the lack of sleep on the part of the other two, Marcy flew the Quinjet while the soldiers napped and talked. Bucky told Steve about his session with Dr. Adams, about how he now remembered many more parts of his life as the Winter Soldier when they had previously been cut from his recollection. The memories were often vague and choppy from multiple sessions of mind wipes, but they were there. And Bucky was still trying to come to terms with it all.

The next item to discuss was the Sokovia Accords, which clearly scared both Marcy and Bucky when they heard about it. Neither one liked the new legislation at all. It made Steve feel better about his own decision to not become a part of it.

Once those items had been covered, there was still time to talk about Peggy, the reason for the trip. The two soldiers reminisced about Margaret Carter and their time where they were all together. Despite the fact that a war was going on, they made it sound like a time of youth and innocence when everything was better.

Marcy remained quiet as they talked. Jealousy would streak through her when she heard the fondness for Peggy in Steve's voice. Jealousy of a dead woman was petty and she hated feeling that way. She was still surprised she was even invited to go. Steve's feelings for this woman, for this old life he no longer had or could have, had nothing to do with her. She promised herself she would not impose on this part of Steve despite the invitation. She would be there to support him if he needed it and that would be all.

At the funeral, Marcy and Bucky sat in the back corner. Bucky wanted to be present at the funeral, but staying in the shadows when one was the Winter Soldier seemed like a good idea. Steve sat up front with several other SHIELD agents who had worked with Peggy over the years. Marcy wished she could sit with him while he was hurting. But it seemed as though Steve wished to handle this pain on his own. Marcy knew all about that kind of thing and let him do what he felt he needed to do.

Steve paid little attention to the priest as he talked. He was too wrapped up in the past, in things lost and how fate had taken so much from him. He nearly failed to notice Sharon Carter speaking as well until something pulled his attention to her.

"Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right—even if the whole world is telling you to move—it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say 'no, you move.'"

At that moment, Steve felt like those words had been meant for him. Planted by Peggy in the memory of her niece to be saved for when he needed to hear them. In that moment, Steve felt touched by Peggy's presence and he felt a little at peace.

* * *

.

When the casket was lowered into the ground, Steve stood with Bucky and Marcy at the outskirts of the group. It was a very large crowd. Peggy had touched many people in her life for the better. Many mourned and remembered her. It was easy for the three to stand back, unnoticed.

Marcy couldn't help but notice Steve stood slightly apart from her while Bucky was practically glued to her other side. Steve was slipping away from her, closing himself off. For a moment, she felt a panic that he was going to drift away and never come back.

"You know, I met her a few times," Marcy said in a soft voice.

Steve's head snapped in her direction, surprised.

"She worked with my grandfather. She trained my mother when she first joined SHIELD. When I applied to join, she happened to be around to watch me. I don't know if it was just happenstance or on purpose, but she was there when my training group tested in."

There was a pause, but neither man on either side of her said anything.

"And that woman could frown," Marcy went on with a humorous huff. "She was not impressed with me at all. I wouldn't have been either. My heart wasn't in joining SHIELD. I did it because Mom had always wanted me to be an agent. She said I shouldn't let my abilities go to waste if I could use them to help people. Of course, I couldn't use them in front of everyone, so it wasn't like they could help me get through trials and testing anyway.

"I was not doing well. The other recruits were razzing me about how I had only managed to get this far because of my mom and grandfather. And every time I looked back, Agent Carter was there, watching me from the rafters like a disappointed coach. I was waiting my turn to show hand-to-hand combat skills and she was suddenly standing right next to me. 'No one believes in you' she told me."

"She did not say that," Steve said.

"I swear to God she did," Marcy replied. "'No one believes in you. Everyone here already thinks you're an easy mark. Even if you do make it in, you have already lost this fight and their respect.' So I got all huffy and asked her what she wanted me to do about it. She said 'hit them so hard the first time, they'll think twice about coming back for a second.' So the first round, I dislocated two of my opponent's fingers. In the second round of sparring, I broke a guy's arm."

Steve chuffed a bit in humor. "That's why Clint said you can't pull your punches."

"Yeah, he was there, too. He saw it all."

"Marcy fights mean," Steve muttered to himself, remembering the words of both Clint and Natasha.

"Hm?" Marcy wondered.

Steve just shook his head in dismissal.

* * *

.

After the funeral, the group returned to their hotel room. Though it was still daytime in London, they were tired from jet lag, especially the two soldiers who had not slept the night before. The plan was to draw the curtains and try to get a few hours of rest.

The three had only one room and two beds between them, but that didn't deter any of them from changing into more comfortable clothes out in the open. Even Marcy didn't have the energy to care enough to change in the bathroom. She merely faced the wall as she put a large t-shirt over her head and then slipped out of her black dress.

Steve, now in a t-shirt and sweats, sat on the window ledge, looking down from the sixth floor. Marcy walked toward him, but stopped a few feet away. He was still distant, in his own world. Maybe she shouldn't bother him. Maybe she hadn't given him enough time to himself yet.

Before she could decide to withdraw, Steve noticed she was there and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him what she wanted.

Marcy moved her mouth helplessly, unsure what to say. Would she just be a nuisance if she asked what was on his mind? Could she ask if he was okay without being overbearing or obnoxious? She wished she could be or do whatever he needed, but she had no idea what that was. Instead, she closed her mouth without saying a word and looked at him in futility.

Steve extended an arm to her and she came closer. He hooked his arm around her, guiding her to stand next to him. Marcy leaned against him, but he still felt far away, not looking at her. He was indulging her. She shouldn't force herself on him.

So she kissed him on the crown of his head and then moved away. "Ready to turn out the lights?"

Steve remained silent for a moment, his gaze still out the window, before he finally turned toward the room. "Yeah."

"James, did you take your sleep meds?"

He smirked at her from the bed farthest from the window. "Yes, Mom."

"Take care of yourself and I won't have to mother you," she shot back as she slipped under the covers.

Steve closed the curtains and then climbed into bed. He surprised Marcy by reaching over her to turn off the lamp, his chest pressing into her back. And he remained against her, one arm pulling her in. He rested his head at the crook of her neck from behind and let out a long sigh before letting his body relax.

Marcy closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off, enjoying the close proximity.

Across from them, Bucky lay on his back, watching the ceiling as he waited for the pills to kick in. He glanced over at the couple snuggled in the other bed, regretted it, and went back to staring at the ceiling.

He heard Steve shift in the bed next to him and his metal arm clenched into a tight fist.

* * *

.

It wasn't any sound that suddenly shook him from sleep, it was that sixth sense honed from months of sleeping on the ground with one eye open. Steve's soldier sense told him there was a body poised above him and Marcy as they slept and he lashed out the same time as his eyes popped open.

The gun had a silencer. Steve felt the bullet rush by his head as he slapped the gun out of his attacker's hand. The second the weapon was gone, Steve launched himself at the enemy and they both crashed to the floor.

Marcy startled awake, flipping on the lamp and readying herself to join the fight. But she saw no enemies in the room, only Steve and Bucky savagely engaged with each other.

"Bucky! Stop!" Steve barked. The Winter Soldier did not cease his attack, his eyes open, but without emotion.

With an angry growl, Steve slammed him into the ground and slapped Bucky hard across the face; one side, then the other. Then the first side again.

"Steve! What?" Bucky gasped between hits.

Steve would not stop until Bucky managed to kick him away. Both soldiers jumped to their feet, panting hard. Marcy had never seen Steve look so viciously angry before. He was still tense, looking ready to kill.

Bucky was far less angry, looking around in confusion, touching his stinging face. "Steve-"

"You had a gun, Buck," Steve spat.

"What...? How did I...?"

"There is a bullet hole in the wall! You almost killed one of us!"

Bucky looked at the bed with wide eyes. All the color drained from his face and he stumbled back. He remembered none of it; not grabbing a gun, not firing it. The room suddenly seemed far too small, all the oxygen sucked out. He couldn't stay anymore. He had to get out; had to get away.

"No," Marcy said, suddenly appearing between Bucky and the door. "You are not running from this. You are not going to flee out that door and disappear again. I don't care what you did."

His heart was still racing, his eyes dilated with panic. Bucky's first impulse was to push her out of the way and charge for the door. He almost did, but his metal arm halted in midair, refusing to do anything against her. That bullet had been meant for Steve only, there was no question about that.

"Just let me leave," he rasped. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I know you don't," Marcy said softly. "But you don't get to run when things get scary. So I want you to just stay where you are and breathe."

Bucky backed up against the wall. He closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep. He could _feel_ Steve's anger and frustration radiating from his direction. It scorched him and all he could think about was getting away from it.

"I'm calm," he breathed. "But I still want to go. I need some air."

Marcy didn't move from where she blocked the door. "Will you come back?"

"Yes."

She still didn't move.

"Marcy, I promise, I'll be back. Steve and I just need a break from each other." He glanced at his best friend. Steve's jaw was still tight, his fists at his side. Steve's temper was quick to come and slow to leave. It was best for them all if the two soldiers had a moment to cool themselves away from each other. Or else Marcy would be trying to stop a second fight.

"Steve," Marcy started to say, but Bucky brushed past her, quickly slipping into his shoes and walking out the door in the sweats he slept in.

"I'll be back," he promised at the door. "I'll get us breakfast." He closed it after him before another word could be said.

Marcy silently watched the door. It had been her gun with the silencer. As a SHIELD agent, she never went without it. Part of this was her fault, but the situation also felt like it was spiraling far out of her control—of anyone's control. Was it getting to that point where they would not be able to recover from this? If Bucky had hurt or killed one of them... it would have been all over. Marcy suddenly felt she was very ill-equipped to be of any help.

"Marcy." She turned at the sound of her name and Steve was right there in her space. He radiated an intense aura that she had never felt from him before. "Are you okay?"

The throatiness of his tone gave her goosebumps. "Y...yeah. Physically, I'm okay."

Anything else she would have said was cut off as he cupped her chin, the thumb pressed to her mouth. At this moment, she noticed Steve was still on edge, his pupils dilated from the adrenaline rush of the earlier scare.

Marcy put both her hands on the extended arm, giving him an encouraging smile. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll still figure this out eventually, right?"

Steve shuddered and moved in, pressing his mouth to hers. His body moved into her, backing her into the wall. She gave a surprised sound into his mouth, which just made him kiss her deeper. For a moment, he had her pinned between his body and the wall; both felt equally hard. She pushed on him a little to come up for air and his mouth released her, but stayed close enough so she could feel his breath as he panted. The heat of his body radiated in waves and caught fire inside her.

She jumped him. He caught her easily and they both tumbled onto the bed. Clothes were soon discarded as they were wrapped up in each other. This was different than the other times they had been together. The romance and care was gone. This was passion and frustrated desperation. This was frantic touches of hands and mouths, skin sliding against skin. Nips and pants, sharp gasps and cries.

Marcy let the heat wash over her, take her fully, and she surrendered to it. But Steve, Steve was far away. His body was there, reacting, doing everything right. But his attention, his mind, was far from this place. Only his frustrations remained, and he took it all out on her.

They both eventually collapsed, sweating and breathing hard. Steve rolled off and onto his back, flopping an arm over his eyes. He remained that way for several minutes as his breathing slowed.

Marcy glanced over at him. Steve was still distant, as he had been for a while now. She was trying to decide how she felt about what just happened. The sex was good; hot. But Steve was only with her physically. Mentally, emotionally, he was currently untouchable.

James was the same way. Both were around constantly-in her house, in her space-but they were closing up. They kept their distance despite their taller statures constantly towering around her. This was not an issue she had ever faced before. It was curiously lonely and she had no idea how to react to it, if she should say anything at all.

Steve's phone signaled that whatever she would have decided to say, she lost her chance. Steve reached over to recover it when it pinged. A mere glance at the screen and he shot up in bed.

"What?" Marcy asked. "What is it?"

He breathed, trying to find the air to form words.

"There was an explosion in Vienna, during the meeting of the world leaders for the Sokovia Accords."

Marcy sat up with him. "What?!"

Steve stared at his phone a moment more then looked over at her. "I have to go there. Alone."

Marcy's mouth moved soundlessly. She didn't even get the chance to decide if she would go with him before the decision was made for her. "Uh, okay. So, is James then staying here with me?"

Steve frowned as he thought about it. He stuck his legs over the side of the bed and looked around to recover his pants. "I want the two of you to take the Quinjet back home. I'm going to call Fury. Bucky is going back to stay at SHEILD HQ where he can be monitored until I get back. He's not staying at the house anymore until we get this figured out."

Marcy wanted to say something. She wanted to talk about this more. But she feared it would start an argument. The last real fight she had with Steve, he left her. She didn't want to lose him again. She knew she kept letting him have his way. Every thought and action, every time she second guessed was she should do, was an attempt to keep him happy. To keep him with her.

She hated it. But she didn't know what else to do.

"Okay," she sighed. "That's fine."

* * *

.

Bucky returned to the hotel room earlier than anyone expected. He had promised to get breakfast, but had not taken any money with him. He was immediately informed that Steve was going to Vienna and he was going alone. Bucky was to go back to the states and stay at SHIELD. Not that Bucky was in any hurry to be near the Accords, or what was left of the attempt.

Marcy had nothing to say about any of it. She was already packing. There was an odd, closed-off feeling from her that wasn't there before. But everything was weird right now. Bucky had no idea while Steve and Marcy discussed while he was gone, or if it had anything to do with why Steve was going alone. He decided not to ask about it.

Steve grabbed his bag and asked Bucky to join him downstairs while he waited for a taxi. Marcy, happy the two would have a chance to talk before leaving, said she would see about preparing the jet for the flight home.

The two soldiers stood side by side a few paces from the hotel's entrance, watching the traffic go by. After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke.

"Buck, I need you to promise me-"

"I know what you're going to say, and you don't have to worry, Steve." Bucky glanced at him, somber seriousness on his face. "I won't let her try to convince me to stay. She'll say that since you won't be there at the house, I can stay there with her and everything will be fine. We both know it's not. The three of us have turned into a powder keg when we're together and it's my fault. I will go back to SHIELD. They can put me under any surveillance they want. What happened last night is never ever going to happen again. I won't let it. I promise you."

Steve stared at his friend, his chest aching. "I'm sorry this is happening."

"Me, too. I didn't want this."

"I know."

"If I left, this problem would be solved and the two of you could be happy."

"We wouldn't be happy without you, Buck."

Bucky looked away with a sigh, rubbing his face.

"Do you love her, Buck?" The words popped out of Steve's mouth before he even thought about it. "It's okay if you do. She cares about you, she wants to help you. I can't blame you if you feel that way about her."

"I don't _feel_ much of anything Steve," Bucky rasped. He stared straight ahead instead of looking at his friend. "This Bucky from way back when that you remember, he isn't here anymore. One day, you might have to let me go, because he's not coming back."

The taxi pulled up at that moment as Steve looked at Bucky and his sad smile. He threw his arms around his best friend.

"Neither one of us made it out whole," Steve said. "There's still enough of you here, I see it. I feel it." He pulled back, holding Bucky's shoulders. "Even if I do have to let go eventually, today is not that day, alright?"

Bucky let out a long breath. He looked tired in his soul. "Alright, Steve. What's left of me will still be here when you get back."


End file.
